


Breaking Down

by LB0917



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 27,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26882446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB0917/pseuds/LB0917
Summary: The group is at their wits' end with Scott. Withdrawn, snarky, and cold, nobody can figure out what has changed within him. When they finally wrap their heads around all of the signs, will it be too late? Eventual Scomiche. (Any Trigger warnings will take place before each chapter).
Relationships: Ben Hausdorff/Kirstie Maldonado, Mitch Grassi/Scott Hoying
Comments: 22
Kudos: 43





	1. When You're Falling in a Forest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Pentatonix, and this story is completely fabricated from the depths of my strange mind. 'Simon" is an original character, and any resemblance to a real person living or dead is coincidental.
> 
> Please read, review, comment, give me kudos, smoke signals, anything to keep me motivated to keep going! Much love :)

_**Trigger Warnings for this chapter: Derogatory language towards the LGBTQ+ community is briefly used (by a hateful and sickeningly horrible character). Please do not read on if this will upset you.** _

**Chapter 1: When You’re Falling in a Forest…**

“Just ignore him, Mitch. He doesn’t deserve your attention right now,” Matt said, loudly enough for Scott to hear where he sat slumped on the couch in the corner of the room. Scott’s ears turned red in response. Good. He should be embarrassed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?” Apparently, Kirstie couldn’t follow Matt’s advice. Kevin rolled his eyes from the hair and makeup chair. Scott ignored her, scrolling through his phone with a scowl on his face, and appearing to try to shrink into himself to completely disappear.

“Leave him alone, guys. We all have bad days,” Kevin mumbled. 

“A week of ‘bad days’ is getting a bit obnoxious,” Kirstie replied absently, leaning in close to the mirror to fix her eye makeup.

“Are you guys ready yet? Let’s get this done,” Ben Hausdorff called into the room. Scott stood up quickly and was the first out the door. Kevin and Matt shot each other looks before following close behind. Kristin gave Ben a quick kiss before scurrying past.

“Alright. As you all know, we are going to shoot Waving Through a Window first. Back into hair and makeup, and then we will go right into Shallow.” Their new manager, Simon, approached as Ben gave his explanation.

“What’s taking so long?” Simon said with a tone of fake annoyance. “Let’s get going. We have a lot to do today.” The group took their places on the stage. Simon stood beside Ben, peering over his shoulder. He would have loved to tell the man to back the hell up, but he bit his tongue. Kirstie seemed to respect this guy and Ben didn’t want to cause any problems with him.

Simon was a tall, dark, and handsome man, somewhere in his mid-forties, Ben assumed. Standing at a height of 6’4”, he rivaled even Scott in height. He was almost shaped like an upside-down triangle, with broad shoulders, large, muscular arms, and thin legs. Ten or twenty years ago, he was probably quite the ladies’ man. Now, he had a slightly receding hairline, with what was left of his black hair slicked to one side. He could easily have been mistaken for a used car salesman.

The track began to play. Simon stepped away from Ben just as Scott took a step forward and began the first verse. 

“Faggot.”

Ben was stunned. The word was spoken softly, almost muttered. Maybe he misheard. He turned to look at the source of the slur, while making every effort to keep his camera steady. Simon was openly glaring at Scott. Feeling himself turning red with anger, he turned his focus back to the group. He kept his ears open to hear if the man spoke again. Mitch came forward. Ben braced himself.

Nothing. He snuck a peak over at Simon again. He was watching casually, leaning against a table littered with staging directions. The glare was gone. He was actually beginning to smile. What the…?

Scott stepped forward again. Simon did the same, yelling out, “Cut! CUT!” immediately as Scott’s chorus began. 

“You.” He said simply, pointing to Scott, as if he had forgotten his name. “Uhh, Scott. Yeah you. Don’t move up again. Stop stealing the spotlight.” Scott looked back at him with a blank expression, nodding slowly.

“I actually told them to step forward for their parts,” Ben interjected. Screw this guy.

“I don’t want him to,” Simon replied, staring directly at Ben as if he were challenging him to continue to argue.

“Got it. Sorry. We’ll go again,” Scott said, softly, shooting Ben a pleading look, as if to tell him, Please don’t.

They set back up and Scott remained still as he sang. Ben thought it looked unnatural. Simon cut him off before he could ask for a retake. “Looks great guys. Back into hair and makeup. Let’s go!”

Oh hell no. Did he just take over my job? Ben could have used a few more takes. A look from Kirstie as she hopped off the stage told him that he should keep his mouth shut. Why do they respect this clown, anyway?

Walking into the dressing room again, Ben saw that each member was already dressed in their new outfit. The silence in the room was deafening. Scott was back on the couch, slumped over this phone. Kirstie was still messing with her makeup. Kevin and Matt sat at the makeup chairs, and Mitch was leaning against the back wall, also on his phone. The air was thick with a tension that Ben couldn’t wrap his head around.

“Kirst. Come here?” She followed him into the hall.

“Are you guys okay? What’s going on?”

Kirstie groaned. “Scott’s been a real asshole this week. Whenever we are all laughing and joking around, he just sits on his phone, looking up every few minutes just to glare at us. When we ask what’s wrong, he snaps at us. I don’t know what his damage is, but it’s really taking its toll on us.”

“That’s not like him at all.”

“I know. He’s always the one having the most fun,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. Her sadness flashed in her eyes, but it was gone within seconds. They turned angry again. “Now he’s just a dick.”

“Maybe it’s this new manager, no?”

“What do you mean? Simon’s great. Scott helped pick him, for God’s sake.”

“He was pretty rude to him during the shoot, don’t you think?”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong.”

Ben was dumbfounded. He knew she was annoyed with her best friend, but had that really been enough for her to think Scott was trying to hog the spotlight? This group had always been in such a groove. Ben respected each and every one of them for not trying to outshine one another. They never complained about their parts.

“I told him to step forward.” He could hear the edge in his own voice. This wasn’t fair to Scott.

“Sure you did,” she rolled her eyes and walked back into the room. Ben struggled with the pros and cons of telling her what he overheard under Simon’s breath. She was already set off. Maybe now wasn’t the best time.

The group was like family. They would work this out. And in the meantime, he would keep a close eye on this new manager.

\-----

Should I keep going? Please let me know!! Thanks for reading :)


	2. We're Far From the Shallow, Now

_**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the kudos, friends! Would love to hear some comments from you. No real trigger warnings in this chapter, just some not-so-nice language... but I should warn you that after this chapter we're gonna get a bit dark... I hope you like!** _

**Chapter 2: We’re Far from the Shallow Now**

“Action!” Simon called. Ben clenched his hands into fists. He wasn’t ready. He scrambled over the buttons on his camera and managed to have the shot ready by the time the track started. Simon was too close to him, again. At least he was quiet.

By the time they were halfway through the song, Simon had ambled over to a producer. Still only feet away, Ben could still hear as they whispered to one another about the lighting.

“In the shallow. We’re far from the shallow now,” Scott and Kirstie sang as they looked into each other’s eyes and their hands reached out towards one another.

He heard Simon laughing. His ears perked up. “Yeah, that’s believable. Doesn’t the world know this guy is a fairy?” he snorted. Ben could hear the producer’s nervous laugh in response.

_Fuck. This. Guy._

The rest of the shoot proceeded without incident. Scott remained behind for a few moments while the rest of the group made their way off of the set.

“Hey,” Ben started as he approached Scott, who was fiddling with a shoelace. He looked around. Everyone had dispersed.

“Hi Ben.” Scott’s voice sounded guarded, as though he was expecting an argument. There was also some sadness in his voice, Ben noticed. He sat down next to him. Scott and Ben had become good friends over the past few years, but he could understand the wall that Scott was putting up, considering that the group wasn’t terribly happy with him right now.

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay. You were quiet today. You weren’t as… animated in front of the camera as usual.”

The response was unexpected. “Did I ruin it?” Scott asked, his voice sounding slightly panicked. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling too well. And I know you said to move up in the first video and then Simon said to stay where I was, and I didn’t mean to go against what you told me, but I totally understood where Simon was coming from. I’m really sorry, do we have to do it all again?” Scott rambled. It took Ben off guard. Scott looked scared. He placed his hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“Scott, the videos look great. I’m asking you if you’re okay because I care about you and you seem on edge.” Scott visibly relaxed, but his panic looked like it was being replaced with frustration.

“I’m fine. Like I said, I’m just not feeling too well today.” He was actively avoiding eye contact.

“What’s the matter?”

“Headache. Nothing to worry about. See you later.”

Ben stood up slowly, trying to wrap his head around his friend’s erratic behavior. Maybe Kirstie didn’t have to know about the comments that Ben had overheard from Simon today, but he decided in that moment that she needed to know how strangely Scott had acted. How… scared he seemed.

Kirstie obviously wasn’t feeling very… compassionate about her friend’s behavior. Her shoulders slumped with exasperation when Ben brought up Scott’s name that night at dinner.

“Just hear me out about him, okay?”

“I’m sick of worrying about him, talking about him, and caring about why there is such a stick up his ass. He’ll get over whatever this is, and we’ll all move on. I don’t want to waste my time and energy on this. For all we know, he and Mark are trying to get back together and Mark is being overbearing and controlling just like the first time.” Her voice slowly became louder as she continued her explanation, and she took a deep breath to gather her composure. Ben sighed. Kirstie was typically very much emotionally in tune with Scott and Mitch in particular. He wondered why she seemed to numb to Scott’s pain right now.

“He seemed… nervous when we spoke today. Like he had let me down, but he looked panicked about it. Almost like he was afraid I was going to hurt him over it. It was very weird.”

“He’s trying to gain your sympathy vote, because the rest of us are over it.”

Ben put his face in his hands, realizing how pointless this conversation was. He picked up his wine glass and took a long sip. Kirstie didn’t like this.

“You’d be annoyed too if he was miserable and taking it out on you.” Her eyes were challenging him.

“I’m sure I would be,” was the only comment for which he had the energy.

Tour rehearsals had been taking up a majority of the group’s time for the past few weeks. They were leaving for New York tomorrow to kick off their tour. The tour hadn’t even begun, and the group was exhausted.

Scott messed up for the hundredth time in the past hour.

“Sorry, sorry.” He mumbled. He looked like death warmed up. He was paler than usual, which was definitely a feat. Faint dark circles under his eyes had been emerging over the past few days. Mitch sighed, agitatedly, as the group stopped singing, again.

“What the hell is going on?” A voice barked from the right wing of the stage. Scott became rigid, as though scared to death.

“Your guess is as good as ours, Simon,” Mitch replied, glaring at the blond.

“Every time I walk by, you guys have stopped. This should be flawless by now. You.” Simon gestured towards the baritone. “Come with me. Now.”

Scott’s eyes glistened with tears as he brushed past Matt to follow their angry manager. Matt turned to look at Scott’s figure leaving his view. This wasn’t sitting right with him.

Scott returned five minutes later, looking paler than when he left. He took his place in formation, and he refused to make eye contact with a single person.

“1, 2, 3, 4,” Their choreographer counted off, and they began singing again. Matt watched Scott out of the corner of his eye for the entirety of the song. It looked as though moving was painful for him, like he was being held together with delicate strings that were about to burst open. He didn’t miss any more cues, though.

What seemed to be days later, the rehearsal was over. Matt knocked on the door to Scott’s dressing room as soon as he had cleaned himself up. There was no answer.

Opening the door slowly, calling Scott’s name softly, Matt entered his room.

Scott was already gone. Matt groaned in frustration. He must have booked it as soon as the rehearsal was over to avoid the rest of them. Part of Matt completely understood that mentality. Mitch and Kirstie in particular have been less than understanding as of late. Matt turned on his heel and began the walk to his car, hoping his friend was okay. He would make sure to text him later to check in.

If only he had known that Scott was still there. He was just down the hallway. He wasn’t alone, and he certainly wasn’t okay.


	3. Keeping Up Appearances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: You guys have been great! Please keep the feedback coming. It helps to motivate me to update faster :)
> 
> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a brief scene containing verbal, physical and sexual abuse. Please turn back if that offends or upsets you. It is not my intention to hurt anyone! Chapters after this one will only get worse, so it's better to get out now.

Items on the shelves shook, threatening to fall with a deafening thud. The sharp edges of the shelves dug agonizingly into Scott’s back.

“Did, you fucking hear me, slut?” His back connected with the shelf again. He was afraid to speak. He knew it would come out in a shaky rasp, and that this would only make things worse. He had to get his mind straight. He had to speak calmly.

“Did. You. Fucking. Hear. Me. SLUT?” the larger man growled, digging his fingernails into Scott’s waist, where he held onto him.

“Yes. Yes, I understand.” Scott was pleasantly surprised with the steadiness of his response. If only his body wasn’t giving him away. He was trembling against the strong, calloused hands that were clutching him.

“You know the deal. You act normal. They aren’t to know a damn thing. Stop acting like a fucking robot. If they find out, you know what will happen. I can see them starting to get suspicious. Don’t. Piss. Me. Off. Got it?”

“Yes. Got it, Simon.”

“Good boy,” He ran his thumb tenderly along Scott’s jawline and his eyes softened. “My good, gorgeous boy.” A second later, they were piercing again, and the large hand wrapped itself around Scott’s throat.

“Get on your knees.”

Mitch stepped back from the mirror to assess his choice of earrings. They would do. What wouldn’t do were the bags under his eyes. Mitch hadn’t been sleeping terribly well and he was annoyed with its effect on his skin. Just another reason to be annoyed with his giant goofball of a best friend, Mitch supposed.

Scott plagued his thoughts at night, you see. Mitch couldn’t stop his mind from racing with thoughts of his friend. He was worried. Possible reasons for Scott’s extreme personality change over the past few weeks never seemed to stop as soon as the lights went out and he crawled into bed. He thought of sickness, eating disorder, secret relationship, alien abduction…

His friend was drifting away slowly. Mitch worried that he had had enough of Pentatonix. If that were the case… Mitch stopped himself from thinking any further. He couldn’t think of that. He couldn’t think of the group’s demise. He knew they would never recover from the loss of Scott. He knew HE would never recover from that.

On stage, Scott was his old self. The beginning of tour had gone off without a hitch. Scott miraculously hit all of his marks, and the group sounded fantastic. Shows in New York and New Jersey were sold out. Scott bounced around the stage, engaging with the crowd and his bandmates, eyes shining. Mitch found himself nearly missing his own cues as he admired how beautiful the baritone looked on stage. As soon as they finished the last notes of their encore, however, it was as though Scott turned off the light behind his eyes. They would go dark again, not to return until the beginning notes of the next show.

They were heading south tomorrow. Tonight, they were going to celebrate Matt’s birthday.

The club was chaotic. A sea of sweaty bodies stood between Matt and his friends in their own VIP area. He took a deep breath and waded through the crowd, flopping down on a couch between Kevin and Kirstie.

“Scott isn’t here, is he?” he asked, trying to disguise his hurt. The words came out monotonous and uncaring. That wasn’t what he wanted, either, but it would have to do.

Mitch sighed in response. “It will be a damn miracle if we see him tonight, let’s just call a spade a spade.”

“Come on, Mitch,” Kevin responded. “He’s been better over the past week, especially since the video shoots.” Matt admired the fact that Kevin always tried to see the good in people.

“If you think he has been even a fraction of himself lately, you don’t know Scott.” Mitch replied, voice shaking with frustration.

“Did I hear my name?” a voice asked from behind them. They turned to face Scott, hair perfectly styled, sporting skinny jeans and a black leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt. It was the most effort they had seen him put into his appearance in weeks. Mitch felt a glimmer of hope and a pang of love in his chest.

“Hey, buddy,” Matt said standing up to wrap his friend in a hug. “I was just asking if you would be joining us.”

“I wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world,” Scott responded with an easy smile. Mitch’s heart fluttered. “Hey guys,” Scott continued, more quietly, and with a small wave.

Kevin stood up and hugged the taller man as well. “We are happy to see you, brother.” An awkward silence followed when he let him go, the blaring sound of the music almost magnifying the moment. Kirstie stood up and gave him a soft, short hug before returning to her seat, quietly. Mitch followed suit.

“So… what are y’all drinking?” Scott asked, clapping his hands together.

“There he is!” Matt exclaimed, smiling. He reached for a bottle of Grey Goose and a shot glass in their VIP booth, cheering as Scott threw it back.

The next few hours were a blur for everyone. They laughed, they danced, and they drank. God, did they drink. Scott flopped back down on the couch after one of his favorite songs ended.

“Scoooooooooooter,” Mitch sang in his falsetto as he stumbled up the steps to the booth. He marched up to his best friend and straddled him, kissing his cheek, as he had done thousands of times before. (Mitch was a very handsy drunk). Scott flinched as if he had been burned. Mitch was drunk, but he wasn’t drunk enough to miss this reaction. He stiffened, eyes narrowing.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Mitch said as he slid off of the blond’s lap.

“Mitch…”

“Don’t.”

“Mitchy…”

“Don’t you DARE. Don’t you DARE try to defend that, to tell me you didn’t mean it, or whatever bullshit you’re about to come out with. I’m sick of you. I’m sick of this HORRIBLE, COLD version of you. Who the hell even are you?” He spat, surprised that he was able to make the words out without slurring.

He turned to walk away, but he decided that he needed to say one more thing. As he turned back, Scott’s eyes were filled with tears and his hands were visibly shaking. Mitch leaned in, inches from his friend’s face. This only fueled Mitch’s rage more. “How’s this? Whatever you’re going through, whatever is happening… Fuck you.” His words dripped with venom. He felt a strong hold on his upper arm, and it pulled him away.

It was Kevin, and he looked as though he might cry. “Let’s go, Mitch.” He led him through a crowd that had clearly stopped what they were doing to listen to his outburst. He stumbled slightly with how quickly he was being led, and nearly tumbled into one of the onlookers.

“Sorry.” He muttered, but he straightened up when he realized who it was. “I’m sorry, Simon. Didn’t mean to knock into you.”

Simon smiled in response. “Don’t even worry about it. Get home safe, okay?”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Kevin responded, shaking Simon’s hand and pulling him into a hug.

As the two men disappeared into the crowd, Simon turned his gaze to the trembling blond. Scott was standing up slowly, averting his gaze from everyone around him. Simon saw Kirstie and Ben approaching and gently touched her shoulder.

“Don’t ruin your night. I’ll make sure this one gets home okay.”

Kirstie looked relieved. “We owe you one. Thanks, Si.” Ben was quiet.

“My pleasure.” With that, the couple watched as Simon approached Scott, took him by the elbow, and whispered into his ear. Scott didn’t reply, but he allowed himself to be led through the crowd where Mitch and Kevin had just disappeared.

“Shots?” Kirstie asked. Ben forced a laugh, pushing his concern for Scott into the back of his mind.


	4. Just Try Not To Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how you like this one. We are heading into the rabbit hole now. Please check out the trigger warnings before you move any further...
> 
> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a scene containing physical, verbal, and sexual abuse.

Mitch woke up the following morning feeling as though he had been hit by a truck. Rolling over with a groan, he smiled fondly when his gaze fell on the bottle of water and small bottle of Advil on his bedside table. Kevin was the best.

Flashes of the night came back to Mitch quickly as he sipped at his water. Shots. Dancing with his best friends. Straddling Scott. Screaming. Mitch’s eyes stung as he thought of Scott’s shaking body as he leaned close. He pushed those feelings aside and slid out of bed. He had to pack. They were leaving for North Carolina today.

Kevin was relieved when Scott boarded the tour bus. He was the last one onboard, and part of Kevin was afraid that last night had been the last straw for the leader of their group. Scott silently walked by the group and settled down in the back of the bus with a book in hand. Kirstie rolled her eyes.

“Welcome aboard,” she muttered.

Simon boarded the bus a minute later. “Everyone here? Where’s Debbie?” The four singers looked at each other, confused.

“Who’s Debbie?” Matt asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Debbie Downer. Tall, blond, mopey?” Simon asked through a smirk. The group laughed loudly.

“In the back,” Mitch replied.

“Just where we would expect Debbie to be,” Kirstie added.

“Alright, we’ll get going, then. See you guys in NC!” Simon said through his laughter, then hopped down the bus stairs.

Scott had heard Simon’s voice. He had heard his words. He had heard the laughter of his family. He felt like he was being stabbed in the chest with four different knives. One for each of them. He tried to focus on the book in front of him, but the words became blurry through his tears. Frustrated with his inability to control his emotions, he shifted on the couch to lay on his side.

That was a mistake.

Pain pulsated through his body as he shifted. His back was sore, but that was the least of his problems. His hands came to rest under his shirt, rubbing against his newly bruised ribs. Simon had been angrier last night than Scott had ever seen him. He had never outwardly beaten him in these three weeks of torture.

Last night, Mitch had put the nail in Scott’s coffin, making a drunken scene while straddling his hips, and publicly accusing him of acting strangely. It was the one thing Simon demanded he be better at. To act normal. Mitch had blown up his spot. And what’s worse, he did it while straddling Simon’s new favorite toy, and Simon didn’t like to share.

Simon was in Scott’s hotel room for 5 hours last night. He had allowed Scott to sleep for zero of them.

_“I told you to act normally. What the actual fuck was that?” Simon asked, dragging Scott by the arm through the threshold and slamming the door behind him._

_“Mitch was so drunk, and he overreacted…” Scott said softly, in an effort to save himself from the pain he knew was coming._

_“What a coincidence that drunk Mitch accused you of acting strangely shortly after I told you how angry that would make me,” Simon snarled, approaching the blond and slipping Scott’s jacket off of his shoulders. “You clearly like to make me angry. Get on the bed.”_

_Scott knew better than to argue, to beg, or to try to distract the man in front of him. He sat down on the edge of the bed, clutching the duvet with both hands. He felt cold. He couldn’t help the shiver that rattled his body in that moment._

_“Lay down. On your back. Now.” Simon licked his lips as Scott laid back without protest. He approached him, towering over Scott’s frame. In one swift motion, Scott’s pants and boxer briefs were laying on the floor. He snaked his hands under Scott’s shirt, and in another moment, it was thrown haphazardly next to the other garments. Scott had learned that Simon preferred being fully clothed in the beginning, looming over his naked prey. His cold hands rubbed up and down Scott’s torso before grabbing his dick._

_“You don’t look happy to see me,” he snarled, pulling on Scott’s soft length. “Fix that.” Scott closed his eyes and tried to envision anything that would help him to get hard. Anything. Anything but this. That method had been working for him. But tonight, his heart was pounding so hard, he couldn’t focus on anything but wondering if he was going to live through the night._

_“Need help?” Simon asked. “I’ll help you, gorgeous,” the sweetness in his voice was scarier than when he yelled. Scott braced himself. Simon pulled on his length, hard and fast, and Scott whimpered in pain and surprise, back arching off of the bed. “That was a pretty little noise,” the older man muttered. He leaned over Scott’s body, placing a gentle kiss along his jawline. “Make that noise again.” Scott clenched his eyes shut._

_“I said, do it again.” A fist connected with his ribcage and Scott gasped for air. “Good enough,” Simon laughed, coldly. Fists continued to bombard him for what felt like hours. Simon stopped suddenly._

_“I would beat you into submission if I wasn’t worried about leaving marks where your dumbass friends can see.” He stood up. Scott prayed it was over. He felt the older man looming over him again a minute later. Simon was naked now. His dick looked painfully hard, precum leaking out, as if taunting Scott about the pain he was about to feel._

_With one swift movement, Simon entered Scott painfully and without warning, protection, or preparation. Scott gasped for breath again, letting out another small noise, somewhere between a moan and a whimper._

_“You sound so beautiful when I fuck you.” He whispered in Scott’s ear. “You feel so good. You’re so fucking hot.” Scott wished he were deaf. Scott’s body was responding in a way that felt like a betrayal, and Simon began to tug and play with Scott’s newly hardened length. The man’s words were as horrifying as the physical trauma. Within a few minutes, Simon finished with a grunt and pulled out of the younger man._

_Scott could feel his exhaustion taking over him. He wasn’t sure if he was falling asleep or passing out from the pain, but he welcomed it, either way. Hell, maybe he was dying. He was oddly at-ease with that possibility, as well._

_Hands around his waist pulled him off of the bed with a painful thud as the back of his head smacked unceremoniously against the floor. Feet collided with his torso repeatedly now. He considered screaming, but he knew what Simon would do if he did so. He couldn’t let that happen to people he loved. He continued to think about Simon’s deal with him. He had to let this happen. He had to protect them._

_This pattern of torture lasted until morning._

**_A/N: What did you guys think? Please let me know! Your feedback keeps these chapters coming faster!_ **


	5. Can't Break Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks for the love, guys! Please keep it coming :)
> 
> (No trigger warnings for this chapter... just adorable, concerned Matt.

Meet and Greets were some of Kirstie’s favorite moments in her life. To meet the fans made her work more meaningful. She beamed as a small boy gave her flowers.

The group was standing against their photo backdrop as fans filtered through. _This is okay._ Scott thought to himself. _As long as I can stand here and not move, this is okay._

As if reading his mind, a mother with her two small children approached the group with shy smiles. “Hello,” she almost whispered, “We are huge fans of yours. This is Lilly and this is Mason,” she gestured to her little boy and girl. Lilly was no more than three or four, Scott guessed.

The mother leaned close to him. “Lilly has a bit of a crush on you, you know!” Kirstie overheard this exchange and giggled.

“Aww Scott, hold Lilly for the picture!” Kirstie offered. The young mother beamed.

Panic flashed across Scott’s face. Only those who really knew him would have recognized it. Kirstie certainly did.

“Hah. I would love to. How about I come down to you, sweetheart?” He asked, bending down to the little girl slowly. “Overdid it at the gym, and you’re such a big girl!” he exclaimed lightly. The picture was taken and after some hugs and mutual adoration, the small family continued on their way.

Scott slowly lifted himself off of the floor, flinching slightly when a shooting pain radiated through his ribs in protest of the movement.

“Couldn’t even hold a small kid, Scott. What a man.” Kristie whispered as the next group of fans approached. Scott rolled his eyes.

“Roll your eyes at me again.” She argued, quietly.

“How are you guys doing today?” Scott purposely added some extra enthusiasm as their fans came close, making a show of it for Kirstie.

They ignored each other for the rest of the Meet and Greet, but only the band could tell.

On stage, Scott did okay. There were no catastrophes, but he wasn’t moving around as much. The bright lights behind his eyes that Mitch had been missing weren’t burning quite as bright tonight, either. Scott’s hushed argument with Kirstie really must have struck a chord with him.

“Thank you, and good night!” Kirstie waved as the band bowed and left the stage. Scott was last to come off, dragging his feet a little more than usual. Each member happily bounced into their respective dressing rooms, exchanging congratulations and compliments on the show, before Scott had even made it to the hallway.

Scott had just finished changing into a sweatshirt and basketball shorts when there was a soft knock on the door. His breath hitched. It couldn’t be Simon. He wouldn’t take a risk with everyone still around. He opened the door slowly. Matt smiled softly as he came into view.

“Hey, Scottie.” His voice was kind and so were his eyes. Scott had never appreciated this man more in his life. He didn’t have to be so nice. Scott knew he didn’t deserve it. “Can I come in for a minute?” Scott gave him a small, nervous smile as he stepped to the side to let him in. He prayed that he would be able to answer any questions that were about to come his way without looking suspicious.

Matt sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, inviting Scott to sit with him. Scott obeyed.

“I just wanted to catch up with you, a bit.” Matt stated, looking into the taller man’s eyes. Scott nodded, but offered no words.

“How are you doing?” Matt tried again. Scott didn’t miss a beat in his response to this. In fact, he almost answered too quickly.

“I’m good, good. Been really tired lately. I know I’ve been a bit of a brat. I guess I’m just homesick. I miss my family, you know. But I’m sorry. I know it hasn’t been easy to work with me.” Matt’s mind raced trying to keep up with the blond’s rambling words. He was trying to wrap his head around Scott’s homesickness, considering this had never been such a pervasive issue before.

“Is everything okay at home? Everybody good?”

Scott nodded in reply. “Yeah, yeah, they’re great. I just feel like I’m missing moments in their lives, which sucks, you know how it is…” He was hardly breathing in between his long strings of sentences.

“I get it, completely. I miss my family, too. But having you guys around me definitely helps. I consider you to be as much my family as they are. You know we love you, right?” Matt asked.

Scott swallowed, hard. “I love you, too.” Scott said, looking down at shaking hands, again. Matt instinctively reached out to his friend to rub his back, as he wasn’t expecting him to respond so sadly. Scott quickly shifted out of his reach before he could make physical contact.

“Scott… I was just trying to comfort you.”

“I know, I know. I just… forgot I need to finish something before I come back to the bus. I’ll see you back there, okay?” His eyes were blank as they met Matt’s again. It unnerved him.

“Okay, bud. I’ll wait up for you, okay?”

“That’s okay. I might be a bit late, and I’m sure you’re tired. Just go, I’ll be fine.” His smile was trembling, as though it took every ounce of his energy to keep it.

“Scott, can I hug you?”

“What? Why?”

“Because I want to hug you.”

“Why though?”

“Because you’re breaking my heart right now and I need to hug you.”

Scott paused, searching Matt’s face. Matt wanted to cry. This was terrifying him, and he couldn’t even place why that was. Scott stood up, slowly. Was he going to leave him there?

Scott held out his arms. Matt smiled sadly and stood up, embracing his friend gently. He simply stood there, rubbing circles on Scott’s back with a soft touch. He could feel Scott’s heart racing, as though it was threatening to burst out of his chest. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but he waited as his friend’s heart rate slowed and his breathing became more regular, and as his face slowly buried itself in Matt’s neck. He hoped no one would open the door, as this sight was likely a bit confusing. Scott pulled away.

“I don’t mean to be hurting any of you,” the taller man mumbled, looking at his feet.

“I know, Scott. I know that.” Matt said, reaching to place his hands on his friend’s waist to ground him. This seemed to surprise Scott, and as Matt’s hands found his sides he flinched and jumped backwards, out of Matt’s reach. Scott’s eyes widened for a moment, as though he realized he made a mistake. Those eyes then immediately seemed like they were focused a million miles away.

“Scott?” Matt asked, gently. He was afraid to reach for him again. Scott’s eyes refocused.

“Hah, sorry about that. Don’t you know how ticklish I am?” His mouth formed the most artificial smile Matt had ever seen from him. Matt was the one shaking, now. He slowly took Scott’s hands in his own.

“What is the matter with you?” The words were warm, but stern. Pleading but understanding, as he held his friend’s gaze.

A knock on the door broke their focus. Scott opened it to reveal Simon on the other side. The older man looked surprised when his eyes landed on the bass singer in the room as well. He paused.

“…There you guys are. Let’s get back to the bus,” He said, turning away hastily and starting down the hallway without waiting for a response.

“Guess we should go,” Scott muttered and left as well, leaving Matt standing in the middle of the dressing room, confused, worried, and with a deep feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.


	6. Chapter 6: Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Two chapters in one day! Keep the comments and kudos coming, and I'll keep the chapters flowing!
> 
> Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains verbal, physical, and sexual abuse, as well as PTSD components.

Scott prided himself on his ability to avoid Simon over the next few days. He knew why Simon had knocked on his door after the show, and though part of Scott was thankful that Matt had been there, he knew that when Simon got his hands on him again, he would have to answer to him about it.

He was moving more easily, and the next few shows went very well. His bruises had faded, and though they were now a sickening shade of yellow, they felt better. The best part was that, since there were no hotel rooms involved due to quick turnarounds, Scott was able to sleep well, surrounded by his bandmates in their tour bus. He fell asleep within minutes of laying down in his bunk.

The bunk shifted and Scott’s arms were immediately pinned above his head.

“You thought you were safe here, you stupid whore?” His mouth was covered with a cold hand as he tried to call out, instinctively.

“They aren’t here, so don’t try it, beautiful. They left you.” His clothes were being ripped off and the older man’s body was pressed heavily against him, making it hard to breathe. Fingers entered him forcefully and he writhed against the muscular man hovering over him, gasping for air.

“Shut up, shut UP.” The man repeated, menacingly. Scott tried to move against him, but both of his arms were still pinned above him by Simon’s other strong arm. The fingers inside him seemed to multiply, painfully stretching him.

“Please…” Scott begged. The fingers spread within him. “Stop, please…” his voice broke. He didn’t care how pathetic he sounded anymore.

“Scottie…. Scottie, wake up for me babe, please?”

“Please, please it hurts…” He freed his arms and attempted to push Simon off of him, swatting desperately. This was short-lived, as they were pinned above him again. Breathing was only becoming more difficult, and Scott knew he was starting to hyperventilate.

“Scott. Scotland. Scooter. Baby, come on. PLEASE, WAKE UP.”

Scott’s eyes shot open, and Mitch’s tear-stained face came into view in the darkness. Straddled over him, Mitch ran his hands up and down Scott’s chest, soothingly.

“It’s okay, Kev. Let his arms go.” Only then did Scott realize who it was who had been holding him down. Kevin gently let him go.

“Sorry, Scott. You were really wailing on Mitch there for a minute.”

Before he could even fathom the fact that he had possibly hurt Mitch, bile rose in his throat and in one swift motion, he pushed the smaller man off of him and rushed by his other three bandmates, slamming the bathroom door.

The others simply looked at each other, eyes rimmed red and bloodshot, as they silently listened to the sounds of retching behind the door.

Kirstie let out a gut-wrenching sob that cut through the quiet bus like a bullet. She nearly fell over, and Matt quickly took her into his arms.

“It’s okay. He’s okay. He’s going to be okay,” he repeated, quietly, stroking her hair.

Kevin slowly approached the tenor, who was still slouched on Scott’s bunk, staring straight ahead with wide eyes.

“You okay, Mitchy? Did he hurt you?” Kevin asked, slowly. The floodgates opened, and Mitch let it all go. Kevin scooped him into his arms immediately, worried that he had been injured by the larger man.

“No, no, nononono.” Mitch gasped. “He didn’t. He didn’t. I h-h-have to get to him. P-p-please let me go.” Kevin placed his feet firmly on the floor and Mitch was gone from them in an instant, bursting through the bathroom door.

Scott was slouched against the sink with his head resting against his knees. He was perfectly still, almost as if he had fallen asleep this way.

“Scott, love, look at me.” Mitch whispered. Scott’s head snapped up, accidentally hitting the edge of the sink behind him. At least, Mitch hoped it had been accidental.

Scott’s eyes looked dead. His breathing was shallow, hitching every few moments in a way that sounded painful and downright dangerous. Mitch gently placed his hands on Scott’s knees, easing them down to the floor so his legs were laid out straight in front of him. He then placed one of his own legs on each side, as he had just done in Scott’s bunk. He placed his hands on each of Scott’s cheeks and kissed him on the forehead.

“Just breathe, Scott. Please, just breathe for me, okay?” he asked, looking pleadingly into Scott’s eyes. He moved his hands down to rest on Scott’s heaving chest. It was as though Mitch could see the life returning to Scott’s body, slowly but surely, as his breath evened out. “Good job, baby. You’re okay.”

On the other side of the closed door, the rest of the group was unsure of what to do

“Kev, did you hear what he was saying in his sleep?” Matt asked, a hint of desperation laced in his voice.

“He… he was just saying, ‘please’, and ‘stop’, over and over. And I think… I think…”

“What do you think, Kevin?” Kirstie asked, panicked.

“I think I heard him say, ‘Please, it hurts.’” Kevin’s voice trailed off. It pained him to say those words, because he couldn’t fathom where they came from.

The door opened, and Mitch emerged slowly.

“I have to get him a change of clothes. He’s drenched in sweat and he’s burning up.” He quickly rushed back into the bathroom with the clothes and came back out a second later.

“He doesn’t want to change in front of me. He asked me to leave. What the hell is going on?” He started sobbing, again.

Scott emerged a minute later. He was looking down. He couldn’t bear to make eye contact with them. He knew how much trouble he was in, now. If Simon found out what a spectacle he had made…

The room suddenly began to spin, and he couldn’t find his footing. He stumbled backwards and strong arms wrapped around him.

“It’s ok, I got you,” Kevin whispered in his ear, soothingly, rubbing Scott’s arms, up and down. “Let’s get you back in bed, bud.” Kevin eased his shaking friend into bed to lay on his back, afraid to let him go, but even more afraid that his physical touch was scaring Scott further. A lump formed in his throat at the thought that Scott would be scared of something like that, and why that would be the case.

The bunk shifted again shortly after Scott had been eased into it. Before he had a chance to react, he saw the pair of warm brown eyes he loved so much.

“Can I lay here with you?” Mitch asked, sounding scared. Scott hated that he had this effect on him. He hated hurting Mitch. He hated hurting all of them. Scott opened his arms wide and Mitch laid down, his head resting against Scott’s chest. Sleep took Scott quickly. Mitch listened as his breath evened out. Sleep didn’t come so easily for him. His mind raced with the events of the night. He prayed that Scott was going to be okay.

Laying against his best friend, he had never felt so far from him before.

**Note: Please let me know what you think! Love you guys, and love the feedback!**


	7. Bend and Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: This chapter includes verbal, physical and sexual abuse, quite graphically. Please don't read on if you feel that this isn't for you.

The bus was quiet the next morning as Kirstie, Kevin, and Matt sat on the couches clustered in the back, staring out the window as they passed field after field. Ordinarily, the view would be soothing. This morning, it just reminded them of their hearts pounding in their ears.

“What do we do?’ Kevin broke the silence first, in a hushed voice.

Matt rubbed his eyes. “We figure out what the hell that was. That’s what.”

Kirstie kept her gaze out the window, silently.

“What’s up, Kirst? What are you thinking about?” Matt asked, gently.

It was as though Matt’s words were the cue for her tears to fall. “I’ve been so horrible.”

Kevin reached out and wrapped her in his arms, rocking her back and forth, slowly.

“You can’t have known something was wrong, Kirstie. He just seemed sad and angry. It could have been anything. Heck, he’s acted like this before a million times. Remember the day when Krispy Kreme went out of business?” Kevin asked, cracking a smile. Kirstie responded with a wet laugh.

“He was such a mope that day.”

“He actually cried,” Matt added with a fond smile.

The laughter was short-lived, and the mood in the room became somber again.

“He’s been a shell of himself for three weeks. Instead of being there for him, I YELLED at him. I ignored him. I…” She couldn’t go on.

Kevin was next to speak. “We have to figure out what’s wrong. We know it’s something awful. We just have to figure out what it is. Maybe he will let us in if we show him how worried we are.”

Matt shook his head. “I tried that.” Kevin looked at him, surprised. Matt saw this, and he took it as his signal to continue. “After the NC show. I went to his dressing room. He was behaving… erratically. One second he was almost manic, then he would shut down… He wouldn’t let me touch him, he went on a few tangents, and his eyes… they were… they were different. I told him he was scaring me. His body is always shaking. Did you guys notice that? Well, anyway… he told me he hated making us worry. Before I got anywhere with him, Simon knocked on the door and yelled at us to get on the bus.”

Mitch emerged from the bunks in that moment, looking like he had spent the night in a blender. His clothes were disheveled, and his eyes were swollen. He felt awful. He sat next to his friends without saying a word. They all turned to look at him.

“He’s taking a shower.”

“Did he sleep?”

“He slept. I didn’t. I just kept listening to his heart beating, his breathing, like I was waiting for it to stop. I was terrified.”

“Did he say anything when he woke up this morning?”

“He just hugged me to his chest and repeated that he was sorry, over and over again. I couldn’t stop crying. I felt horrible, because I knew it was hurting him to see me lose it, but I couldn’t stop."

Matt began wringing his hands, nervously. “What do you think the nightmare was about?”

Mitch paused to think. “It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a night _terror_. Like it was a memory or something. Your body doesn’t respond like that to a nightmare.”

Kevin nodded. “He was in a state of fight or flight. He thought we were someone else, I’m convinced of that.”

“He was writhing against me like he was being tortured,” Mitch nearly whispered.

The group fell silent. There had to be some explanation for this. They each prayed that it wasn’t what they were thinking. The bus pulled into a parking lot, snapping them out of their own thoughts.

They heard a hushed conversation from the front of the bus, followed by the doors opening. Kirstie rushed forward.

Scott was getting off of the bus with his overnight bag in hand, walking slowly to the doors of the hotel. She jogged to catch up.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said, trying to sound casual, but her concern was evident. She cursed herself.

“Hey,” He looked at her, quickly, with a small smile. “I just want to check in to my room. I have plans to meet a friend for breakfast.”

“I think Mitch wanted to know if you want to share a room.” Kirstie offered, suddenly, unsure of where that even came from. Scott looked at her, confused. “You know,” she added, “like you used to?” Her voice was shaky and desperate.

Scott stopped suddenly and placed his bag on the curb. He pulled Kirstie into a hug. “I’m sorry, babe.” He whispered, rubbing her back and clutching her tightly. “Last night was weird and I have no explanation. I think I’m just stressed. I don’t want you to worry about me, okay?”

Kirstie pulled back. “Too late. I’m scared to death,” she replied. Scott laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sleep is weird,” he shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about. I remember zombies…”

“Zombies,“ Kirstie repeated. Scott laughed.

“I know. I scared you all shitless over zombies. I think so, at least,” he added. He pulled her back into a hug. “Tell Mitch I’ll take a raincheck for sharing a room,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead before letting her go. “I need to catch up on some zombie-less sleep tonight. Okay? I’ll see you later.” With that, Scott was gone through the doors to the hotel. Kirstie wanted to scream. She turned on her heel and walked back to the bus, feeling hopeless.

“Breakfast with a friend? What friend?” Mitch asked, after they had all settled into their hotel rooms and the four of them met in Kevin’s.

“I don’t know. Scott has friends everywhere.” Kirstie replied.

She was mad at herself. She should have asked. She should have followed him. She should have done something. With her anger towards herself rising, she left Kevin’s room abruptly. She knocked on Scott’s door at the end of the hallway to see if he had left yet, but there was no answer. “Scott?” she called. The door didn’t open, and she couldn’t hear anything on the other side. There was no way to know where he was now. Sighing, she returned to Kevin’s room.

The body on top of him became still. A hand was clasped over his mouth. Simon was still inside him, unmoving. They laid like this for what seemed like an eternity. “You. Are. Not. Home.” Simon whispered. Their naked chests pressed together, Scott could feel both of their hearts pounding against his ribcage.

If he called out now, this could all be over. If he just yelled for help, Kirstie could end this.

But at what cost? Scott remained silent. Simon suddenly sprung off of the bed, peeking through the peephole of the hotel room door.

“What did you tell them?” He whispered. Kirstie was gone, but he wasn’t sure how far she had gone.

“I told them I was meeting a friend for breakfast.” Scott replied. The words came out sounding bored, which gave Scott an odd feeling of pride in himself. Part of him enjoyed seeing the older man squirm, for once.

“Well, why are they knocking on your door, then?!” He charged at Scott, backhanding him across the face in a fluid motion. Scott saw stars. This man knew better than to hit him in the face, to leave marks. He could taste blood. Simon’s desperation was clear.

“You stupid little shit.” He spat. Fists were raining down on his chest and abdomen again, leaving him no time to breathe between blows. The old, yellowed bruises ached in protest. Simon’s eyes were wide, pupils small and shriveled. This was the face of rage. This was something Scott hadn’t seen before. He knew Simon was seeing red.

The sound of bone cracking echoed through the room. Simon stilled, peering down at Scott, laying on his back, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. Scott opened his mouth, willing the air to enter, but it wouldn’t come. He shut his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe. His chest protested, and he felt like a punctured balloon.

“Hey. Hey, beautiful. You’re fine. Breathe. Breathe, beautiful. No, no, no, you’re okay. You’re mine. You’re mine, okay? Breathe, gorgeous. BREATHE.” The air came then, as Simon held his face between his hands, looking remorseful, eyes filling with tears quickly. Scott breathed in and out, closing his eyes to rid the man from his view.

The pain returned in that moment, shooting up his left side. His rib was cracked, that was certain. His breathing was shallow but even. His lung wasn’t punctured. He had been so sure it was.

“Open your eyes for me, baby.” Afraid of what would happen if he disobeyed, his light blue eyes met the man’s black ones. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. You just make me so mad when you don’t do what I tell you to. Because I love you and I need you with me. Do you understand? I NEED YOU.”

Scott was stunned. He had seen the man’s anger. He had seen moments of mocking gentleness before the violence continued. He had never seen the desperation.

Simon was fully clothed when Scott snapped back to reality. He leaned over to kiss Scott’s temple. He hovered there, and then he whispered softly in Scott’s ear.

“No one can know. Do you understand?” Scott could only nod. “You can’t do anything for a broken rib anyway,” Simon muttered. With those words, he was gone.

Scott remained in the same position for the next three hours, practicing his breathing with the new throbbing pain that coursed through him with every breath. He wished it had been worse. He wished Simon had ended his misery.

**A/N: What do you guys think? I see the hits slowing down... should I stop? :/**


	8. Witnesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Things are really getting intense now... let me know what you think!
> 
> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains sexual, physical and verbal abuse.

Scott showed up just as their rehearsal began. There was no show tonight. They had the evening off when this was done. Typically, this would be a good thing. This time, however, it left Scott wondering how he was going to avoid his friends for the night.

There was no time for conversation during rehearsal. Scott was thankful for that. He was also thankful that they weren’t required to sing full out. He wondered how he would manage to do so with his injury. It seemed to be his bottom rib that was fractured, which was a plus. It was probably the least affected by his breathing and singing.

But God, did it hurt all the same.

Rehearsal was over. Scott struggled in the second half. It was difficult for him to catch his breath. He thought he was doing alright with covering up his pain, but he caught his friends looking at him, occasionally.

Freshly showered, Scott opened the door to his hotel room an hour after rehearsal was over. Mitch and Matt stood in the doorway, with a mixture of concern and sadness etched in their faces. They didn’t speak. They simply brushed past Scott, entering the room, uninvited.

“I’m going to ask you the same question I asked in North Carolina.” Matt said, sounding strangely calm. “What is the matter with you?”

Before Scott could answer, Mitch placed two hands on his chest, pushing him to sit on the bed. Scott looked as though this knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t help it. Jesus, that hurt. His eyes clenched shut in agony. Mitch’s eyes widened.

“Matt, I didn’t do anything…”

“I know, Mitch,” Matt replied, kneeling down in front of the blond. Scott attempted to move backwards, but his back met Mitch’s chest and two arms wrapped around his shoulders, both soothing and debilitating. Mitch leaned back, so Scott was leaning back as well, as if on a lounge chair. His rib screamed with the movement.

“What are you… What are you doing?” Scott asked, shakily. Mitch’s buried his face in the crook of the blond’s neck. He was afraid to look.

Two hands gripped the hem of Scott’s shirt. Matt looked at him nervously as he lifted it slowly.

“Stop. What the hell…”

A mixture of what sounded like a sob and a gargle came from Matt’s throat. He stared in disbelief at his friend’s torso. It was tie dyed with various shades of purple, blue and yellow. Scott’s stomach muscles were tensed tightly, a sign of the constant pain he was feeling.

A sharp intake of breath met Scott’s ear. Mitch must have looked. Matt lightly touched the swollen area where Scott’s rib had cracked. Scott inhaled sharply.

“Scott, that’s… that’s broken.” Matt’s voice came out in a high-pitched rasp.

Scott didn’t protest physically or verbally. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to get out of this. He was fucked. They all were.

A knock on the door snapped them out of their shocked silence. Scott sprung up, disentangling himself from Mitch’s grasp, adrenaline pulsing through him. He peeked through the peephole. Those were some angry eyes.

“Shit. No, shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, quickly rushing back to his unmoving friends.

“I need you to hide.” They looked at him wordlessly, panicked.

“We could all die right now if you don’t listen to me. Do you understand?” His words came out bravely and unwavering.

“In the closet, now. Do not come out. Do not even BREATHE loudly.” He pushed them both in, shutting the closet door and rushing to answer the incessant knocking.

Simon burst through, heat radiating off of him with his anger. He grabbed Scott and pressed him against the wall, capturing his lips with his own. He bit down.

“Get on the bed,” he muttered.

Mitch and Matt watched in horror as Simon came into view between the shutters of the closet doors. Matt placed a hand over Mitch’s mouth, as a warning that he was breathing too loudly. Mitch let out a small gasp when the light reflected off of an object in Simon’s hands. Was that a knife? Matt’s hand pressed more firmly against his friend’s lips.

Simon cut Scott’s shirt open with one up-and-down motion. The bruising came into view again, and Matt willed himself not to gag. There was no way he could overpower this man without Scott being harmed, possibly fatally. He felt hopeless.

Scott’s pants hit the closet doors with a thud. Matt nearly screamed in surprise at the sudden sound. He shut his eyes and prayed that he could calm himself down. That he could think of something.

They heard a conversation in hushed tones as they watched Simon’s hands run over the marks on Scott’s body. They couldn’t make out the words, but Simon’s voice sounded strangely gentle.

Scott’s back arched suddenly and he groaned. Mitch nearly yelped at the sight of Simon’s fingers disappearing into him. He silently thanked Matt for keeping his hand over his mouth. They would otherwise be dead by now. He was sure of that.

Simon’s fingers fucked Scott harshly as Scott lay still. Silent tears were pouring from Mitch’s eyes now. He couldn’t look away. He felt like that was a betrayal to his best friend, to the man he loved. Scott’s body bucked forward, much like the way it had against Mitch during his night terror. Everything made perfect sense, now.

Looking at Matt, he saw that tears were spilling from his eyes as well. His eyes were clenched shut and he began to rock back and forth.

The knife was placed on the bed, right next to Scott’s head. With one swift movement, it was clear that Simon could grab it and plunge it into Scott’s chest. They had to wait this out.

There were more hushed words from Simon as he quickly disrobed. He climbed onto the bed. The men were laid such that Matt and Mitch could see Simon’s body laid across Scott’s from head to toe. Simon lifted the blond’s long legs and entered him with a growl, reaching up to grab Scott’s throat, violently. Bile rose in Mitch’s throat as he watched his friend be torn apart. He struggled to comprehend how anyone could want to cause harm to Scott’s perfect body. He deserved to be worshipped. He deserved anything but this.

They could see Simon repeatedly leaning down to whisper into Scott’s ear. Part of Mitch was glad that he couldn’t hear what the animal was saying.

It felt like they were hunched in the closet all night when Simon grunted, kissed Scott’s temple, and pulled out. He draped the blanket over Scott in that moment, as if tucking him in.

“Sweet dreams, my beautiful.” That final comment was heard loud and clear from the men in the closet. If only he would let that knife go…

The door clicked shut moments later, and Mitch and Matt burst through the closet doors. Matt rushed to the door to lock the deadbolt, while Mitch ran to Scott’s bedside.

“Scott, look at me. Look at me, my love. I love you. I love you so much. Please be okay.” He repeated these words over and over. Matt felt helpless as the small tenor latched on to the taller blond as though his life depended on it. All while Scott looked at the ceiling, seemingly emotionless, as though his body had gone into shock.

“Should we get him in the shower?” Matt asked. “Or… or should we call an ambulance?”

“No.” Scott’s low, gravelly voice surprised them both. “You aren’t going to tell anyone. Just help me get to the shower. Okay?”

Mitch felt like his body was on autopilot. He knew they should call the ambulance, that Scott shouldn’t wash away the evidence of what had happened. But Scott wanted to take a shower and God dammit, Mitch was going to give this man whatever he needed. Wrapping a towel around Scott’s waist, Mitch and Matt each took an arm and led the broken man to the bathroom. Matt sat him down on the toilet and left, silently.

“Come on, love, let’s help you in.” Mitch said.

“I can do it, you can go.” Scott’s voice was distant.

“Please let me help you?” Mitch sounded pathetic as a hiccup interrupted his plea.

Scott’s eyes softened. He reached out a hand, as a request for help standing up. Mitch pulled him to his feet gently, and he removed his towel as he guided him into the warm water.

Scott slouched against the tiled wall. His lack of energy to clean himself was apparent.

“Can I help?” Mitch asked, gently. He knew that the last thing Scott probably wanted right now was someone else’s hands all over his body. He cursed himself.

Scott surprised him. “…Okay…” he said, softly and calmly, as if drifting off.

Mitch removed his own clothing down to his underwear. He didn’t want to make Scott uncomfortable. He stepped into the shower. He lifted Scott away from the wall, letting the water run over his body. Looking down, Mitch noticed the undeniable streak of blood rushing down the drain. With no clear lacerations on his figure, Mitch knew that could only mean one thing. Scott had been torn open. Mitch hoped the shower water was doing an adequate job of hiding his tears.

Scott’s blank expression scared Mitch with every passing moment. Mitch made quick work of soaping up his friend and rinsing him off. In any other circumstance, he would be soaking in the sight of the toned form in front of him. This thought made him pause. Scott’s body had changed, even looking past the bruising. He had become thinner, his muscles more defined. In horror, Mitch tried to remember the last time he saw this man eat anything. Scott’s frame actually looked… small.

He never imagined this would be where they found themselves. He guided him out of the shower, feeling what was left of Scott’s energy leaving his body.

“Go-bed.” Scott mumbled, nearly unrecognizably. Mitch wrapped a towel around both of their waists again, leading him gently to his bed. He didn’t bother to try to get Scott into clothes. Matt rushed to assist and they lowered the tall blond down gently, flinching as his breath hitched from the pain in his ribs. Scott was asleep within moments. Mitch looked at him, desperately.

“What are we going to do?” Matt asked.

“I think he might be gone. I don’t think we’ll get him back.” Mitch replied, monotonously.

“Don’t say that.”

“How do you recover from this, Matt?”

“With love. Scott’s not short on people who love him.”

“He has been, lately.”

“That’s not fair. We didn’t know.”

“That shouldn’t matter.” Mitch’s eyes challenged him. He fell silent.

“I guess I’ll go back to my room. We will all talk about what to do about this tomorrow. Are you going to stay?”

“He will sleep here alone over my dead body.” Mitch replied, with a bite to his tone.

Matt wrapped his smaller friend in a tight hug. “If anyone can bring him back to us, it’s you. Goodnight, Mitchy.”

Mitch locked the deadbolt behind Matt, threw his clothes back over his head, and crawled into bed beside his best friend. He watched the man’s chest rise and fall, evenly. He thanked God that he wasn’t showing signs of pain in his sleep.

He thought of the first time he met the beautiful man next to him. He smiled fondly as the thought of how lanky his friend had been when they were children. He placed a hand gently over Scott’s bare waist, careful not to put too much pressure on the man’s wounds.

His thoughts returned to his memories with him. How he would take Mitch’s breath away every once in a while, just by smiling. How Mitch hated to admit that he played “Cracked” on repeat for months after its release, just to listen to the baritone’s seamless riffs and runs. How that continued to be one of his favorite parts of each show, as the crowd cheered in response for his perfect friend. How Scott naturally knew when something was even slightly off with Mitch, and how relentless Scott was in making Mitch feel better.

Mitch felt a pang of guilt. He thought back to when Scott started to show signs. That was almost a month ago. Scott was likely living in this nightmare for a month, and Mitch hadn’t done a single thing about it. His memories flashed to the night at the club. He sobbed as he thought of his words to Scott that night.

_“How’s this? Whatever you’re going through, whatever is happening… Fuck you.”_

The words haunted him as he fell into a fitful sleep.


	9. Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Our love is about to get some help! :) PS. I'm mad at myself... was watching the video for Waving Through a Window yesterday and was so sad anytime Scott looked upset... I ruined the video for myself!!
> 
> Trigger Warning: Some major anxiety is portrayed here...

Mitch’s eyes shot open at the sound of a knock on the door. The sun was just rising. It couldn’t be past 7am. Panic set in as he watched Scott spring out of bed and wrap a robe around his body, flinching in pain as he did so.

He ran to the door and peeked through. Mitch expected him to return to him, frantically whispering for him to get back in the closet. Mitch didn’t think his heart could take it again.

Mitch heard the door open, but he couldn’t see the threshold from where he lay. He heard Scott politely greet someone. “Good morning, officers.”

“Are you Scott Hoying?” A pause. “May we come in?” Mitch scrambled out of bed and turned on the lights, frantically straightening out the wrinkles in his shirt and shorts. Two broad officers walked into the room, with Matt, Kevin, and Kirstie in tow. Matt looked down at the floor, trembling. Kevin and Kirstie looked as though they had been crying for hours.

_Matt, what have you done?_

“Good morning,” One officer said as he extended his open hand towards Mitch. He reached out and shook it, returning the pleasantry with shaky breath. Mitch looked over at Scott, who had the same blank expression on his face from last night.

“Have a seat, everyone,” One of the police officers offered, politely and warmly. Matt approached the bed and looked at it, pain etched across his face, remembering what he had seen happen here a few hours before. The five band members sat at the edge of the bed, afraid to dive into a conversation with the two officers facing them on their uncomfortable hotel chairs.

“My name is Officer Brian Coventry, and this is Officer Bill Burdich. Mr. Hoying, your friends gave us a call a little while ago. They have some pretty serious allegations. Do you know what they could be about?”

Scott returned Officer Coventry’s gaze steadily, blankly. Matt interrupted, sounding frantic.

“Scott, I’m so sorry. I told Kevin and Kirstie. I was so scared. Kevin said we should do this. I couldn’t help…” Officer Coventry lifted his hand into a “Stop” gesture. Matt halted his train of thought.

“Now, now,” Coventry began. “Let the man speak. Mr. Hoying, do you know why we were called here?”

Mitch could feel the man next to him begin to shiver. Scott’s heartbeat was so strong, Mitch could feel it pulsate through the mattress underneath them. His eyes continued to stare blankly ahead. Then, with no warning, Scott sprung up from the bed, and bolted for the door.

Officer Burdich had clearly expected this, and he beat Scott to the punch with ease. He held the door shut as Scott jiggled the handle, mindlessly repeating, “Let me out. Please. Please, let me out.” Kirstie put her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. The rest of the guys looked on in shock.

“A little help here? I don’t want to put my hands on the poor boy.”

Kevin was across the room within seconds. He wrapped his arms around Scott gingerly. He had clearly been filled in regarding the events of the night, as he avoided putting pressure on Scott’s lower torso, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, instead.

“You’re okay now, Scottie. Everything is okay. They’re here to help you. Nothing is going to happen to you anymore,” Kevin whispered.

“No.” Scott muttered, squirming within Kevin’s hold. “You don’t get it. You don’t understand. He’s going to kill you. He’s going to kill you and it’s all my fault.” Scott was shaking so violently that he was struggling to remain standing. Kevin was becoming tired quickly. He was surprised that Scott could be this strong right now.

“Nobody is going to be killed, kid. You’re safe now. We will make sure of that. You just have to tell us what happened. Can you come join us again?”

Mitch decided that he liked these officers. They were kind. They were respectful. Scott stilled within Kevin’s arms and allowed him to lead him back to the edge of the bed. Kevin was becoming increasingly worried about Scott’s shaking. He watched nervously as Scott ran a trembling hand through his hair, looking at the floor. Mitch grabbed his other hand to steady it.

“Who threatened to kill everyone?”

“Not everyone.”

“Okay, who was it and whom did they threaten to kill?”

Scott lifted his gaze to rest on Mitch. “He was going to kill Mitch Grassi,” Scott whispered.

The group stared at Mitch. Mitch was in a state of disbelief. He couldn’t be the reason for Scott keeping this horrible secret. He couldn’t be the source of his pain.

“Who? Who was going to kill Mitch Grassi?”

“S… S… he’s going to kill me, too.” His eyes were icy cold, and wild looking. It was as though he was being controlled by someone else. Like he was losing his mind in front of them. Burdich knelt down in front of the blond and looked into his eyes.

“Nobody is going to hurt you again. Who did this to you, son?”

“Simon. Our manager. Simon Tucci.” Scott replied, almost as though he was accepting his fate that he was going to die.

“Did Simon cause you physical harm?” Coventry asked.

Scott shook his head. Matt let out a mixture of a groan and an angry growl in response.

“He beat the crap out of him, and he… he r-raped…” he interjected, his tone cold. Mitch flinched at the anger in his voice. Matt looked at Scott. “Show them your chest, Scott. Show them your chest if he didn’t hurt you.”

Scott tugged his robe across his chest, as if preparing himself for someone to try to remove it.

“Can you let us see, Scott? Can we look at what your friend is talking about?”

Scott shook his head frantically, with tears welling up in his eyes.

“We’ll let the hospital staff handle that,” Coventry said, gently.

“I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” The tears were falling freely now. Mitch was growing more and more terrified of his friend’s mental state.

“Son, you aren’t well. We have to make sure you’re alright.”

A knock startled the band, but Coventry approached the door casually, opening it to let two EMTs walk in. After a whispered conversation in the doorway, a woman crouched in front of Scott.

“Hey, sweetie. You’re going to be fine. Okay? Can you roll up your sleeve for me? I need to take your blood pressure, and I’m going to put this under your robe as well.” She held up her stethoscope. Scott’s face indicated that he was elsewhere, like he had completely detached from the situation.

She wrapped the gauge around Scott’s upper arm as he stared straight ahead. Within moments, she recorded something on her pad.

“Alright sweetie. One more minute, love. Can I open your robe a bit?” He nodded faintly. She carefully pulled his robe to the sides, exposing a black and blue smattering across the top of his chest. Kevin and Kirstie looked away, biting their lips, heartbroken. She calmly asked him to take deep breaths for her, moving the stethoscope gently across his skin.

“We need you to come with us. Okay, dear? Your blood pressure is making me a bit nervous. We have to make sure you’re alright.” Scott stood up, robotically. He looked at no one.

As Scott eased himself into the waiting wheelchair, a voice erupted through the officers’ walkie talkies.

“No sign of this Simon Tucci guy. Looks like he fled.” The voice was casual, and almost sounded bored. “We’ll keep searching. Over and out.”

Scott was wheeled out of the room, blankly, still lifeless behind the eyes.

**A/N: What do you guys think? We have a long way to go!**


	10. Comfor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I love Scott's parents, so I had to include them :)
> 
> No trigger warnings for this chapter. Just pure love!

They could have been sitting there for a few minutes or a few days. Matt had no concept of time right now. The walls of the hospital waiting room seemed to be enclosing on him slowly. He looked at his friends. Kirstie had fallen asleep against Kevin’s shoulder, who was staring ahead icily. Mitch was wringing his hands while staring at the floor.

Matt felt horribly for Mitch. With as much pain as he was feeling, he knew Mitch was in misery. They all loved Scott to death. There was no questioning that. Mitch, though- He was so in love with the man, it looked he could shatter into pieces at any moment.

“Why did you do it.” Mitch broke the silence. It was a statement, not a question. He was reprimanding him. Matt couldn’t believe his ears.

“I didn’t want him to die,” he returned, matter-of-factly.

“If we had just stopped to think, if we had come up with a plan… instead of lighting up the sky and filling the hotel parking lot with lights and sirens… Simon would be in custody right now.” Mitch replied. He couldn’t look at Matt. He knew how betrayed Scott was feeling and he couldn’t stomach looking at him.

“What if Simon came back and you were in bed with Scott, Mitch? Would you have hid in the closet again? Would you have watched that… that ANIMAL do it all over again? Would you have watched Scott go through that? Or would you have screamed out? Would you have let it be known you were there? Because then what? Scott would be dead. And you would probably be, too. And we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all, because we would all be destroyed. I stand by my decision to tell Kevin and Kirstie, and I stand by Kevin’s decision to call the police. So, knock it off.” Matt’s voice came out strongly and unwavering. Mitch looked down and didn’t reply for a few minutes.

“That man is probably crazy. What if he does something again?” Mitch asked, voice breaking.

“He won’t get near any of us. We’re protected. _Scott_ is protected.” Kevin interjected from across the room.

The afternoon was horrible. Matt and Mitch were questioned about the night before. Mitch could hardly get out some of his answers through his sobs. Thinking about what had happened was almost as bad as watching it play out. When Matt returned from his interview with the officers, he looked shaky, like he might throw up. Mitch felt a pang of compassion for his friend, regardless of how mad he was.

He thought back to the night before, and how Matt had his eyes clenched tightly, rocking back and forth while silently crying. This was trauma for all of them. They were all suffering.

Scott was led out by a doctor that evening. It took every bit of energy in each of them not to leap up and swarm their friend. They knew better, but it pained them not to be able to reach out and physically comfort him.

“Alright, Mr. Hoying. You’re good to go. You will return to your hotel. You’ve been moved to a different room. You will all share a suite now, and you will be under the protection of Officers Burdich and Coventry.” She turned to the group, placing her hand gently on Scott’s shoulder. “You guys take care of him, okay? Here is my card if you have any questions, and here is the card of my colleague, who spoke with Scott earlier. He said he would be open to continuing to speak with her” She handed Kevin two cards. He noticed that one was for a trauma counselor.

Scott’s door had been shut since they returned to the hotel. Well, Scott and Mitch’s door, but Mitch wasn’t inside. The group had decided that Scott shouldn’t be sleeping alone, due to the night terrors and to… well… they were worried about his mental state. They were worried that he could do something to himself. This thought was unfathomable, so Mitch was elected as his chaperone. But Scott softly said that he was going to take a nap upon coming back, and other than opening the door a crack to check on him every 30 minutes, the group respected his wishes. Mitch ached to be able to hold him while he slept. That night, he joined the blond in bed, but kept his distance. Refraining from reaching out and touching him took every ounce of willpower that Mitch had.

The following morning, there was a knock on the suite door. A knock on the door meant that the officers had allowed the person through, but everyone’s heartrate instinctively increased. Kevin opened the door slowly to reveal two concerned faces.

“Connie, Rick, hi!” Kevin said, loudly, attempting to sound happy to see them. Instead it came out as sounding almost hysterical as he held himself together. He reached out and hugged Scott’s parents with all of his might.

Kirstie and Matt joined them at the door, hugging them in greeting. This wasn’t a complete surprise. Mitch had called them to let them know what was happening as the group sat in the hospital waiting room the day before.

Kirstie reached out to hug Connie, but instead of letting go after a moment, she clutched her harder, small sobs emitting from her as she buried her face in her shoulder. The next moment, they were all standing in the threshold, holding onto each other and openly crying.

Matt’s heart broke for the Hoyings. He always envied Scott for his unwavering support from his family. They were unbelievably loving. And they were Scott’s biggest fans. He couldn’t imagine the feeling of receiving the call that they got the day before. Their baby. Hurt. No, not hurt. Tortured. Where he was supposed to be safe. With his band, his second family. He was overwhelmed with shame and regret. He looked at their faces, twisted into heartbreaking expressions as their tears fell for their son.

“Where’s my boy?” Rick finally said, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

“I’ll go get him,” Kirstie replied, hastily.

Scott emerged a few minutes later, Kirstie leading him gently by the hand. His face went from expressionless to desperate and heartbroken in an instant upon seeing his mother and father. He swayed on his feet, looking like he might fall over as the emotions ran over him. Rick crossed the room in only a few strides and threw his arms around his son, stabilizing him. Scott’s face found the crook of his father’s neck and he let out a heartbreaking sob, allowing his father to support all of his weight as he fell apart in front of everyone.

“Shh. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay.” He said, running his hands absently through his son’s hair. His mother approached slowly. She placed her hand on her son’s shoulder, and he flinched.

“It’s me, baby boy. It’s just Momma.” She whispered, desperately. Scott disentangled himself from his father and placed his arms around Connie. She sobbed loudly into her son’s chest, half afraid that she would accidentally hurt him, and half wishing she could squeeze him as hard as she could.

“We’ll… um… we’ll give you all a little while to yourselves.” Mitch said, quietly. Rick turned to him and scooped him up into a hug.

“Thank you for calling. I know how hard that must have been for you. I know how hard all of this has been for you.” He let him go and turned to the other three band members. “For all of you. I can’t imagine what’s been going through your minds. Thank you for being here… for him...” he trailed off as tears welled in his eyes again and he looked at his son, who was still clutching his mother for dear life.

A few hours later, Mitch was zoning out in front of a pot of coffee in their small kitchen area. A low voice broke him from his stupor.

“Hey, Mitchy.” Rick said. Mitch turned to find Rick and Connie standing with their arms around one another, almost as though they were holding each other up. Their eyes were bloodshot, and they looked like… well, they looked like they had just found out their child had just been through hell.

Connie reached out to hug Mitch, gently. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you. Thank you for all you’ve done.” She said, softly. Mitch was overwhelmed with guilt.

“I did nothing.”

“Of course you did, love. You saved his life. It was you and Matt who figured out what was happening, isn’t it? That’s what Scottie told us,” Rick replied.

“A month later…” Mitch began, eyes welling with tears. He stared straight ahead for his confession, knowing he wouldn’t get it out if he looked in the eyes of the parents of the love of his life. “I was horrible to him. I… I ignored his pain. He was suffering. All I saw was a cold shell of himself… and it made me furious. I yelled at him. I ignored him. I isolated him. Just to find out he was enduring this torture all because this sadist threatened to kill me…” His voice was distant. He was interrupted by Connie hugging him tightly.

“He would do it all again for you.”

“That’s what terrifies me. I hate that he doesn’t value himself the way he values the rest of us.”

“Just you.” Connie corrected, looking into his eyes.

“W.. what?”

“The way he values _you.”_ She corrected again. Her eyes indicated that she knew something that Mitch didn’t.

She leaned close and whispered in his ear as she gave him a final hug. “He loves you more than anything, dear.” Mitch’s heart throbbed painfully in his chest with hope. She kissed him on the cheek, and they made their way to the door.

The group said their goodbyes to the Hoying family and returned to their spots on the couch shortly after. They had received the news that the next few shows were canceled. Scott was going to be livid with himself when he found out. Now, they just had to wait. They had to wait until Simon was found.

Then, maybe they could start healing.

**A/N: Please keep the comments coming! I love to know what everyone thinks!**


	11. Losing Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Writing a Pentatonix/Harry Styles crossover... would any of you be interested in reading that? The ship is Scott/Harry.
> 
> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains elements of PTSD, including a depiction of a flashback of abuse.

Connie’s words rang through Mitch’s mind over the next several days. He sat in an uneasy silence with his broken friend frequently, reaching out to touch him every once in a while, just to pull back quickly.

Scott laid on his back on the couch with a book in his hands. He looked calm, with his head in Mitch’s lap. Kevin and Matt were playing Mario Kart on the hotel tv. Kirstie was watching quietly, trying not to throw off the equilibrium of the room.

Scott was asleep shortly after that, with his book to his chest. Mitch looked down at him, wishing desperately that he could lean over and kiss him. He simply watched him, running his fingers through his hair, one of his favorite hobbies, for what seemed like hours.

“Please.” Scott suddenly whimpered, and Mitch’s heart leapt into his throat. The video game was abandoned quickly, and Kevin and Matt rushed to the couch. They all paused, eyes wide.

“No. Please, no. Please… I… I can’t…” Scott continued, eyes clutched tightly, his breathing picking up. He moaned painfully, his back arching, which was too familiar to them, now. “…hurts. Please… just kill me.”

Mitch’s heart shattered into a million pieces in that moment. Matt cursed under his breath, and Kevin sat with his eyes closed, clutching his chest like his heart had shattered, too. Kirstie looked like she might vomit.

Grabbing the beautiful man’s jaw in his hands, he whispered, “Scott, wake up.”

Scott’s eyes shot open. Mitch was pleasantly surprised. It had taken much more effort to wake him last time.

Hands pushed at him and Scott began to squirm on his back. Mitch placed a hand on his stomach, steadying him. “No… please…” Scott was sitting up now, panting.

“Scott, look at me, brother.” Kevin said, looking into his eyes. Scott’s eyes were wide and wild-looking. They were unfocused. “Scott, it’s Kevin. No one will hurt you.”

Scott pushed at Kevin in that moment, and Kevin lost his footing, stumbling to the side. Scott was standing now, backing away from them all, slowly. Mitch thought he might pass out.

“Scott, Scott it’s us. Let me hold you? I don’t think you should be standing. Let’s sit you down, okay?” He approached him like he was trying to calm a spooked horse. Scott allowed him to approach.

“Mitch…” Kirstie started. But it was too late. Scott had backed himself into the wall and put his hands up, as though surrendering. He still didn’t know where he was. He could snap at any moment.

“Mitch, don’t. Let me.” Matt interrupted, remembering Mitch being hit last time. He replaced Mitch’s approach towards a panic-stricken Scott. “It’s okay, Scottie. It’s Matt. You’re safe, I promise.” His words were gentle and pleading.

“Please, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t… it hurts. Please make it stop.” Scott’s desperate voice brought tears to everyone’s eyes. His hands were still in the air, submissive.

Matt was finally chest to chest with Scott and placed his hands gently in Scott’s outstretched ones, bringing them down to his sides. He kept his hands there, holding Scott’s, praying that he would recognize the gentle touch.

That didn’t work so well.

Scott flung himself off of the wall and tried to free his hands from his slightly stronger friend’s grasp. Their shoulders collided painfully, and Matt struggled to keep his hold on the blond. He let his hands go, and he wrapped him up tightly in an embrace. He tried to ignore the hands that were connecting with his torso in a desperate attempt to get away. The others looked on in horror, but Matt ordered them to stay in place.

Scott stopped, suddenly. He stilled in Matt’s embrace. Matt rubbed small circles on the blond’s back. “That’s it, Scottie. Breathe. It’s ok.”

Scott sank lower to the ground. Assuming that he had drained all of his energy, Matt helped him down. Scott was on his knees now. Matt couldn’t hide how physically exhausted he was now, panting, relieved that Scott was calm.

Something was still wrong.

Scott’s hands grabbed the back of Matt’s legs softly. He was looking up at him through his eyelashes.

“Is this right?” Scott asked, bordering on a hysterical tone. His voice was shaking. “I’ll… I’ll do my best. I’ll do better than last time.” Matt was frozen in place. “Just take it out for me? I’ll make sure you feel good, I promise.”

The words broke Matt from his confusion. Bile rose in his throat when he realized what Scott was offering to do to him, what he had clearly been forced to do so many times before. Matt was then immediately on his knees, eye-to-eye with Scott.

“Scott, listen to me. Listen. It’s Matt. And Kevin, and Kirstie. Scott, Mitch is here too. And you are terrifying us, and I need you to come back to us. Please come back to us!” He couldn’t help but shake the man in the front of him, too violently, in his own opinion. Mitch whimpered.

It was like Scott’s eyes were the sky, and a storm had just passed by. The cloudiness in them was gone in an instant. He blinked a few times, silently. “Matt?” He asked.

Wrapping his friend in as tight of a hug as he thought he could stand, Matt replied, “Yes, Scottie. It’s me.” He released him but stared intently into this eyes. “Please don’t leave us like that again.”

“Where did I go?”

It had been over a week since Scott had been in the hospital. Scott had been to see the therapist a few times now. The incident in the hotel was brought to her attention by the group. She had explained that what Scott was experiencing was Post Traumatic Stress. They were urged to keep watching for certain signs. If they continued for much longer, Scott would be diagnosed with PTSD.

Kirstie thought about what she had learned about PTSD through movies and other unreliable media. She pictured Scott being angry, impulsive, abusive… promiscuous. She imagined him being over-medicated, and lethargic. She cried for the 10th day in a row.

There was still no sign of Simon.

**A/N: This one was a sad one to write. The flashbacks always hit me right in the feels :( Let me know what you think about them!**


	12. Too Close for Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Second chapter posted in one day! Let me know what you think. I apologize, this is a bit of a filler. Just a warning, the chapter after this one is probably the most intense of the whole shebang.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Just a bunch of self-loathing in this one.

Scott was slowly beginning to move more normally. It seemed to be a bit less painful for him to sit up from a laying position. Regardless, Mitch always found his hands instinctively supporting his friend’s frame in these moments when they woke up each day.

“Thanks…” Scott said, quietly, sitting with his legs over the edge of the bed, as if preparing himself to move.

Mitch wasn’t sure where his sudden burst of confidence came from, but he shifted so he was sitting behind Scott, wrapping his arms gently around his middle. Scott hadn’t allowed any of them to look at his chest and stomach, and Mitch would rather be safe than sorry if it was still badly bruised. Mitch placed a kiss between Scott’s shoulder blades, cursing himself when he found himself wishing that the t-shirt hadn’t been a barrier there. His own selfishness left him temporarily stunned.

Scott turned his head slightly to look at the man behind him. “What are you doing?” He asked, trying to sound lighthearted.

“Loving you.” Mitch said nonchalantly, placing another kiss on his back. Scott leaned into the touch and Mitch’s heart fluttered. They used to do things like this all the time, but Scott was usually the clingy one.

Scott leaned back, his ass accidentally brushing up against Mitch’s crotch. Mitch stifled a groan. It was morning, after all, and he hadn’t taken care of that little problem yet.

Scott heard the small noise that escaped his friend’s lips, and he shifted against him again to make sure he had heard correctly.

“Ugh, stop.” Mitch whined.

“Need some help?” Scott surprised him as he asked, casually.

Mitch froze. “What?” He replied, blinking.

Scott shifted, flinching slightly as he tweaked his ribcage. He was now kneeling on the bed, facing the smaller man. He leaned over the smaller man and palmed him through his shorts.

“Just offering some help.” Scott said, looking into Mitch’s eyes, searching them.

Mitch had no idea what to do. Yes, they had been intimate before. Yes, they flirted and kissed often. But there was a line that they hadn’t crossed since they had dated, years ago.

His hand felt _so damn good_ on his dick though, moving lazily, applying different levels of pressure. Mitch was speechless. Scott pulled back quickly after a few moments, as if he had been burned.

“Oh God. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Please forgive me.” He was seated at the edge of the bed, and he put his head in his hands, rubbing through his hair, clearly aggravated.

“No, Scott. Don’t be dumb…”

Scott cackled, coldly. His breathing was picking up. His chest was heaving. He continued to run his hands through his hair. Mitch grabbed them to still them. In his lap.

“Why the hell would you have wanted… that was so fucking stupid.” Scott said, eyes emotionless.

“Why the hell would I have wanted… what?” Mitch was trying to wrap his head around Scott’s sudden anger. His heart broke when he thought of the blond being angry with him.

“Me.” He replied, unwavering. He looked up into Mitch’s eyes, and the blue orbs were so clear, so sure of themselves in that moment, as if daring Mitch to challenge him. “I’m disgusting… damaged goods.” Scott added. Mitch was in shock.

“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you ever say that again.” Mitch said, voice raising an octave. He moved in front of the blond and kissed his forehead before continuing, standing between his legs and grasping his shoulders. “You are so fucking amazing, Scott. You are so fucking beautiful.” Scott’s flinch didn’t go unnoticed at the final word. “Beautiful” was what Simon called him so often, right before destroying him. Mitch paused. “You still with me, love?”

Scott nodded, silently. He had nothing left to say.

“You mean so much to me. You… you still take my breath away, after all of these years…”

“You can stop, now.”

“I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to stop until you know how much I love you.”

“I get it.”

“You don’t.”

“I SAID, I GET IT.”

Kevin burst into the door then, eyes wide. Both Mitch and Scott had heaving chests. Both were flushed, an angry shade of red across their cheeks. Scott’s eyes were angry. Mitch’s were heartbroken.

“Mitchy, maybe give Scott some space?” He offered, gently. Mitch was still between Scott’s legs, his face within inches of the blond’s.

“Take all the space you need.” Mitch offered, eyes welling with tears. He left the room quickly. Kevin lowered himself to sit next to his dear friend.

“Should I ask?”

“Mitch rejected me.”

That couldn’t be right. Mitch worshipped Scott.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Well, he did.” Scott was looking ahead, coldly. “And who could blame him? I wasn’t even mad about that. I just want him to _stop lying_ about it.”

“Why would you ever think he’s lying? He’s crazy about you. Always has been.”

“Maybe he was. I should have said something before that ship had sailed, I guess.” He sounded sad, and that broke Kevin’s heart.

“Why wouldn’t he still be?” Kevin prodded.

“Why _would_ he be?” Scott looked disgusted. Kevin’s heart broke at the idea that it was disgust in himself.

“He literally watched me get destroyed in front of his eyes. He watched someone use me… watched someone… watched him fuck me… like some whore… he watched me break. Who would want to be with someone after that? Someone so… filthy.”

“Stop it.” Mitch’s voice was quiet, but sure of itself, from the doorway. Scott’s head snapped in his direction, and Mitch lost his breath when he made eye contact with his beautiful blue eyes. He was obsessed with those eyes.

Mitch crossed the room and kneeled in front of the blond. Kevin silently stood and left them there, not wanting to interrupt such an important moment any further. He prayed that Scott would let Mitch in. He prayed that he would let Mitch start fixing him.

Mitch emerged an hour later, looking calm and happy for the first time since the others could remember. Scott was in tow, their fingers laced together gently. They laid down on the couch, limbs entwined with one another, focused quietly on the movie that had already begun. There likely hadn’t been any intimacy. Mitch wouldn’t rush him like that.

But they looked comfortable with one another, and that was a perfect first step.

**A/N: Shoot me a comment if you are ready for the next chapter! Again, it's gonna be intense... I hope you like it!**


	13. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This one was probably the toughest to write. Let me know how I did?
> 
> Trigger Warning: Oh god. Just don't read it if you don't like violence.

Scott woke to the feeling of a cold, familiar hand over his mouth. Eyes wide, he reached for Mitch. The bed was cold where he expected the warm body to be. His eyes focused on Simon in the darkness. He felt cold metal against his temple. The handgun was cocked and Simon leaned in to him. He shivered in the cold of the breeze that came from the forced-open window next to his bed.

“You messed up, beautiful.”

Scott willed himself to wake up. He pleaded with himself. He repeatedly clasped his eyes shut. He pinched himself. Nothing worked. The metal was so cold.

He heard a sob over the large man’s shoulder. It was unmistakably Mitch. Panicked, he allowed his eyes to focus on the far wall of the room. There stood Mitch, along with Kevin, Matt, and Kirstie, all looking utterly terrified.

They had never been a part of his night terrors before.

The gun dug painfully into his temple one more time. “Stand up, slut.” Scott stood slowly, praying his friends hadn’t been hurt.

Simon stood behind Scott, wrapping his arms around him, the gun still pressed to his head. “Living room.” He muttered, threateningly. The other four complied, walking slowly through the door into the living room area, where a light was dimly lit. Simon followed with Scott in his arms, but stopped before crossing through the threshold.

“You’re overdressed, beautiful. I want to see how my marks on you are holding up,” he whispered, and ripped Scott’s shirt over his head. The bruises were nearly gone, other than the one that surrounded his cracked rib. Simon leaned down and pressed a kiss to the area, the gun never leaving Scott’s temple.

“So beautiful,” He whispered in Scott’s ear. “And all mine.” Arms wrapped around him again and he was pushed into the living room, falling to his knees. Kirstie let out a small yelp in surprise. They stood in silence then, as Simon waited to see if this noise arose suspicion from the officers just outside the door. Just then, there was a small knock.

Smiling from behind Scott, with the gun pressed to the back of his head, execution style, Simon snickered. “Let them in, Kevin,” he said.

As if on autopilot, Kevin responded, slowly. The officers entered the room swiftly as soon as they saw Kevin’s panicked face. Guns drawn, they held them steady as they came face to face with Simon, eyes darting between him and the blond knelt in front of him with his eyes clenched shut.

“Put them down, boys, or I blow his pretty little head off,” Simon said.

Coventry kept his gun aimed between Simon’s eyes. “Put yours down first, sir. We can come up with something. Just lower your gun.”

A gunshot rang through the room. Kirstie screamed. Mitch’s heart stopped. Simon had altered the positioning of his gun, firing a warning shot into the floor over Scott’s shoulder.

“I said put it down.” Simon said again, sounding eerily calm.

Coventry and Burdich slowly holstered their guns, keeping their hands over them, ready to react quickly if they needed to.

Simon reached down and grabbed Scott’s throat from behind. Scott gasped for air for a moment, before Simon loosened his grip slightly.

“You see, everyone. I’m a little upset.” Simon began speaking, sounding a bit delirious. “All I wanted was this perfect man. And then I had him. I had him to myself. Every. Single. Night.” The band flinched at that statement. Every night. Scott was being tortured every night.

“And you all ruined it for me.” Simon was stroking Scott’s neck now, up and down, like he was preparing to snap it. He looked down at Scott now, as though he had forgotten about the others in the room. Tears were threatening to fall from his eyes as the hand holding his gun began to shake.

“I loved you. I fucking loved you. You were everything to me. You just NEVER LISTENED.” The hand tightened around his throat again.

“You didn’t love me back. You never fucking loved me. And it killed me. I tried so hard to FUCK SOME SENSE INTO YOU.” His voice was shaking, and he had the same wild look in his eyes that Scott had when they worried that he had lost his mind.

Mitch stepped forward, slowly. He couldn’t understand where his courage came from in that moment as he opened his mouth. “Scott does love you. He told me. He has been missing you so much, Simon. It’s been killing him.” Simon’s tears fell more freely now, a look of hope gracing his features as he listened to Mitch’s lie.

“You’re lying. He’s too busy loving you to love me.” The shakiness of his gun was terrifying, as though he could accidentally pull the trigger at any moment.

“That’s not true." Mitch’s voice was unstable, but convincing. “I wanted him, but he denied me. He said his heart belongs to you. He said he needed to feel you again. That you were what he needed.”

“Prove it,” Simon growled into Scott’s ear, hopefully.

“I love you. I never wanted any of this. When you left last time, I wish you had stayed,” Scott started.

“What did you want me to do to you?”

Scott was silent.

“WHAT DID YOU WANT ME TO DO TO YOU?”

“I… I wanted you to fuck me. I wanted your hands all over me. I… I needed my mouth on you. I… My body was still aching for you when you left. You didn’t even finish me off…” Mitch almost felt his heart breaking. Scott’s eyes shone with what looked like honesty. Mitch shook the thought away that there was any truth to this. Scott was just saving their lives.

Simon was kneeling behind Scott now, his arm snaked around his waist while the other remained holding his gun to his head. His fingers ran back and forth under the waistband of Scott’s basketball shorts, lazily.

“Show them how much you need me.” Simon said, pushing Scott to his hands and knees.

“Please… please take me to the bedroom?” Scott looked back at him.

Simon’s eyes turned dark. His hand steadied on his gun as he realized what Scott was doing: Distracting him long enough to get the gun out of his hand. He stood up abruptly, kicking Scott in the back in the process. Scott gasped for breath.

Simon was waving his gun around like a madman. This forced the two officers to unholster their weapons again, taking aim at Simon. He laughed.

“I fucking love you, Scott. Why can’t you just love me back?” He was laughing again, leaving the group feeling extremely uneasy.

“Put the gun down, sir.”

“No.”

“Sir, please. We can help you,” Burdich interjected. “Scott can help you. You can be together. He can be all yours, just like you wanted. Just put the gun down.”

Simon’s gun moved to its target in the blink of an eye. The second gunshot of the night rang out through the room. Scott was covered in blood instantly, eyes blank and unblinking. Mitch would remember the screams from his bandmates for the rest of his life.

Simon fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Eyes staring straight ahead, the wound in the side of his face seeping out like a faucet. Everyone was frozen in place. Coventry was in front of Scott in a moment’s time.

“Are you hurt? Mr. Hoying… Scott, look at me. Look at me, son.” He gently took Scott’s face in his hands, moving it from side to side, assessing him.

“None of the blood is his. He’s alright.” He said a moment later. Mitch broke out of his trance and replaced Coventry in front of Scott.

The sight was heartbreaking. Scott’s eyes indicated that he wasn’t there with them. The right side of his face was dripping crimson. The droplets made their way down the right side of his shirtless form, down his arm, his chest… he was trembling.

“Baby, look at me.” Scott’s blank stare continued, unaware of Mitch’s pleas.

“Is… is he dead?” Scott asked eventually, robotically.

Mitch nodded. “He… he killed himself...”

The rest of that night was a blur of police officers, ambulances, and hospital staff. Question after question was posed to Mitch, and he couldn’t remember a single response that he had given.

He thought about the moment the gun went off. He thought of Scott’s dead eyes, the blood that soaked his features. He thought of the moment when he thought Scott was dead.

He realized then that he must have been hyperventilating, as he was taken into Kevin’s arms. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling, he couldn’t regulate his breathing.

He needed Scott. He needed to feel his chest moving, his heart beating. He had to keep reminding himself that Scott was still alive.

**A/N: How'd I do?**


	14. Back to Good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Shameless smut in this one. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Trigger Warning: A sexual encounter after sexual assault... could be a delicate topic for some. There's also some self-loathing, body issues, etc. :(

The rest of the tour had been canceled. Their fans were furious, and the band knew it. The story that they had come up with, that Scott had come down with pneumonia, only made the public slightly more understanding of the situation. Mitch was annoyed that they had blamed Scott at all for the cancelation. He felt they should have told the public that it had been someone else who fell ill, but he knew that they had only used Scott’s name so he could start to recover quietly, and doctors and hospital visits would have an explanation. By some miracle, the story had been kept out of the media about their psychopath of a manager.

They were back in LA now. They had returned four weeks ago. Mitch thanked the universe that he and Scott were roommates. It allowed him to keep an eye on the taller man more easily. Mitch had been sleeping in Scott’s bed, waking him and holding him each time a night terror took over him. His heart broke more and more each time, hearing the hushed protests and pleas under Scott’s breath. They were happening nearly every single night.

Scott was his boyfriend now, thank you very much. Mitch looked down fondly at the sleeping man in his lap. Scott was sleeping a lot during the day, lately. His therapist explained that this was normal with PTSD, Scott’s official diagnosis, as his circadian rhythm was being affected by the night terrors.

Scott’s eyes fluttered open. Baby blue met brown and Mitch’s heart fluttered. Scott’s eyes radiated a calmness in that moment that Mitch was thankful to see.

“Can I help you?” Scott asked, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Just looking,” Mitch replied, lazily, running his fingers through Scott’s hair. He leaned down and captured his boyfriend’s lips with his own, careful not to be too rough.

The group was sitting in their living room later that night, casually sipping on their drinks. They made an effort to come over as much as possible, feeling safest with each other, and feeling empty when they were separated. They had all had their own forms of therapy since that night, but nothing beat being surrounded by one another, and the alcohol certainly didn’t hurt, either.

The movie they were watching ended, and Kevin turned off the tv.

“That wassa good one,” he said, surprised by the slight slur of his own voice. “Whoa. I guess I had more than I thought.” They all laughed. He took a swig of his whiskey.

“Alright, Uber time,” Kirstie said, standing up unsteadily, looking at her phone. “He’s outside.”

They took turns embracing one another, each of them holding on to Scott for a little longer, and each of them holding him a little tighter than usual. Even though time had passed, they each felt their eyes sting a bit when they held onto him, thanking God he was okay.

Mitch returned from the front door and joined his boyfriend on the couch.

“Kevin’s right. When did we all drink so much?” Scott asked with a wavy smile.

“You’re a lightweight now, baby boy.” Mitch replied, kissing the tip of his nose. “Especially since you don’t eat as much as you used to.” He hated to bring that up, but it secretly scared him when he would go an entire day without seeing Scott eat.

Scott looked down at his clothed torso and shrugged. “I’m just not that hungry…” His eyes teared up. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, love.” Mitch replied, confused.

“I know I don’t look very good…” Scott continued, eyes vacant, still looking down at himself.

Scott’s torso had healed. The bruises were completely gone. Mitch wanted nothing more than to run his lips up and down the blond’s body, littering him with kisses from his head to his toes. The few times Scott had allowed him to see him while he changed clothes, he practically had to physically hold himself back. Scott looked beautiful. Thin, but with taut muscles that splayed across his body, begging for Mitch’s mouth to touch them. His shoulders had always been Mitch’s favorite part of him. Broad and muscular, leading to long, toned arms. Scott’s hips were to die for, in Mitch’s opinion, with a distinct V shape that led down to disappear in the cloth of his boxer briefs.

Mitch shook the thoughts of his boyfriend’s body out of his mind. They hadn’t gone that far, yet. Mitch wanted to wait for Scott to indicate that he was ready.

“You look amazing, Scott. That’s not why I said that.” Mitch protested. Scott wrapped his self-conscious arms around his middle.

“I’ll try to be better about eating,” he said. Mitch didn’t have it in him to keep this conversation going, so he wrapped his boyfriend in a tight hug, kissing his cheek.

“Bedtime?”

“Bedtime.”

They walked hand-in-hand into Scott’s bedroom. Scott stumbled as he removed his jeans, laughing quietly as he caught himself. Mitch watched him from where he had just finished changing across the room, the fondness on his face impossible to hide. Scott folded up the jeans and tossed them to the side, his muscles moving gorgeously beneath his skin as he did so.

“Yes?” He asked, as he pulled his sweatpants to rest on his hips. Mitch wanted to latch his lips on to the skin displayed before him. He wanted to hide all of Scott’s shirts. Hell, they should have a “No Shirts at Home” policy.

Mitch approached Scott slowly, taking the t-shirt from his hands and dropping it on the floor. He wrapped his arms around the taller man, and lightly ran his hands over his back. Goosebumps formed in the wake of his fingers. Their lips came together gently, and Mitch allowed his hands to roam. His hands brushed over Scott’s nipples, eliciting a small moan from the blond.

Scott’s counselor had told Mitch that this was okay. As long as Scott was made aware that he could stop whenever he needed to.

That moan didn’t sound like Scott wanted to stop, so Mitch did it again, moving down to suck on the nape of Scott’s neck as he took his nipple in between his two fingers, rolling it between them.

Mitch’s legs wrapped around Scott’s waist as Scott lifted him off of the ground, bringing him closer to the bed. Scott was breathing heavily now, which turned Mitch on but scared him a bit as well. Scott leaned in and attacked Mitch’s mouth with his own again, both of them panting now, with Scott standing between Mitch’s legs.

“Is this okay?” Mitch managed to unlatch himself from Scott’s lips to mumble the words.

Scott’s eyes met his, and his voice was clear. “I want you.”

Mitch held onto Scott’s hip with his left hand as their kiss became deeper. Scott was kissing him with a desperation that Mitch hadn’t felt from him in a long time. His right hand snaked underneath Scott’s waistband, palming him through his boxer briefs. He was desperate for skin-to-skin contact, but he reminded himself to take it slow. Scott grinded against his hand, his hardness giving Mitch the confidence to keep going. He peeled the underwear away from him, and nearly gasped at the feeling of Scott in his hand. He had forgotten how big Scott was. He needed to have Scott in his mouth again, the way he had had him all of those years ago.

Scott suddenly became still as Mitch continued to place kisses on his neck while pumping him. His hands rested on Mitch’s hips, tightly. Mitch stilled his hand and looked into Scott’s eyes.

“Scott, baby, tell me to stop and I will.”

“No… no, I’m okay. I just… need a minute to get used to this.”

Mitch moved his hand up and down, leaning into Scott’s ear. He licked his earlobe before whispering, “Just enjoy, baby.” Scott moaned, and his cock twitched and leaked. Mitch almost came just at that reaction.

Scott reached for Mitch’s bulge then, but Mitch reached out his other hand, halting him with a strong grasp. He looked up, confused.

Mitch slid off of the bed. His eyes were kind, but filled with lust.

“Not yet, handsome. Tonight is about you.” Scott moaned again as Mitch sank to his knees in front of him, bringing Scott’s pants and underwear down at the same time. Mitch groaned in pleasure at the sight in front of him. He looked up, wordlessly asking for permission. Scott let out a sharp intake of breath, and said, “Okay,” knowing that Mitch was looking for verbal consent to take this any further. Mitch licked Scott’s v-shaped oblique muscles, from just above his hips, all the way to his perfectly hardened cock. Scott shuttered, moaning as Mitch took his length in his mouth. Scott’s hands reached out to run through Mitch’s hair, his breathing becoming erratic.

God, Mitch had missed making Scott come undone. Leaning against the bed, Scott was reaching out, hopelessly trying to grasp any part of Mitch he could, as Mitch’s head bobbed up and down over his dick. Precum was lapped up selfishly, Mitch not wanting to waste a drop.

“Mitch… Babe…” Scott began panting. Mitch sucked on him, reaching out to massage his balls.

“… Please… stop.” Scott whimpered. Mitch froze, horrified. Had he misunderstood Scott’s comfort level? Please, God… Had he lost him the way they had in the hotel room?

He detached himself from Scott’s dick in a quick motion, and was on his feet again immediately. He reached for Scott’s face, searching his eyes for a sign that he was there with him.

Scott’s eyes were distant again, like he had checked out of his own body. _No, no, he can’t be having a flashback,_ Mitch thought, panic setting in as he searched his eyes.

In a moment, they were clear and focused on him again. Scott shivered and shook his head, as though he had to shake the thoughts of whatever was encroaching upon him away.

“Are you with me, Scottie?” Mitch asked, nervously.

“I’m with you, Mitchy. I’m sorry.” Mitch captured his lips with his own again, more gently this time. He kissed his lips, licking them, easing them open so his tongue could have entrance. Mitch pulled away a few moments later, trying to control his breath.

“Can I keep taking care of you?” Mitch asked, lightly squeezing Scott’s dick for emphasis. Scott moaned.

“Please, I’m dying for you.”

Mitch pushed lightly on Scott’s chest, easing him back to lay on the bed. He crawled between his legs. Mitch’s mouth was around him again in an instant, sucking and caressing Scott like his life depended on it. Scott’s back arched and his hands found Mitch’s hair again, tugging softly. Mitch could have finished himself off untouched with the gasps and moans coming from the man underneath him. They were the sexiest noises Mitch had ever heard.

“I’m gonna… Mitch, I’m gonna…” Scott warned after a few minutes. Mitch hummed around him, licking over his slit. Scott’s back arched again. He shot down Mitch’s throat, and Mitch swallowed it greedily. Scott stilled, still with his hands in Mitch’s hair. Mitch kept him in his mouth for a few more moments as it twitched and slowly softened. Mitch sucked on it once more, eliciting a pained groan from the man below him.

“Mean.” Scott moaned. Mitch smirked.

“Mr. Hoying, I have no idea what you mean. I think I was just quite nice to you.” He laughed as Scott laid back on the bed, exhausted. Mitch crawled over his now limp body, taking in the sight below him, his own cock throbbing, begging for release. Scott reached for him again. He shifted away.

“Not tonight, baby.” Mitch whispered. He crawled out of bed, ambling towards the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later, hair wet, in clean clothes. He had clearly taken care of himself in the shower.

Scott held him close to him as Mitch’s breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and he drifted off. Scott felt inadequate, like he could never give this man what he needs. He almost had a nervous breakdown over a blowjob, for God’s sake. Mitch deserved far more than anything Scott could ever give to him. Scott had never been so sure of that.

**A/N: We're only a few chapters away from the ending. More heartbreak (and some healing) to come. Sorry guys, I'm a pain in the ass.**


	15. Close Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm on a writing ROLL today. This one is more shameless smut. Enjoy!
> 
> Same trigger warning as the last chapter: Sex after sexual abuse.

Mitch rolled over the next morning, reveling in what had happened the night before. He had missed Scott so much. The fact that Scott had trusted him to take care of him meant the world to him.

He reached out his arms to cuddle with his favorite human, but his hands met the cold sheets next to him. His eyes snapped open, his heart beginning to race. Sitting up abruptly, he called out.

“Scott?” He asked, panic-stricken. There was no answer. He leapt out of bed, frantically. Eight thousand possibilities of what could have happened rushed through his mind within seconds. Night terror, sleep walking… what if he didn’t want to live anymore…?

Mitch snapped back to reality when his eyes found his boyfriend’s form sprawled on the couch in front of the tv. His breathing was even. He was clearly asleep, and peacefully so. He sat on the edge of the couch by Scott’s side, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Scott’s eyes fluttered open.

“Am I that bad of a sleeping buddy?” Mitch asked, lightly. Scott sat up, slowly, smirking.

“Sorry, babe. I woke up at 4 and couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so I came out here. I must have dozed.”

“You can always wake me if you can’t sleep.”

“Just because I _can,_ doesn’t mean I _want to._ You looked too pretty _,”_ Scott replied.

Mitch frowned. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Scott shrugged. “Must have slept too much yesterday.”

Mitch knew this was a lie. Scott looked tired. Something was bothering him. He wrestled with the options of pressing further or dropping the subject, for now. Scott looked like he was reading his mind.

“I’m fine, Mitch.” The words sounded bored. For some reason, that annoyed him. It annoyed him that Scott seemed annoyed.

“You’re not fine.” Mitch argued, his annoyance giving him a boldness he hadn’t previously found.

Scott was silent for a moment, his mouth half open, as if stunned. Mitch’s eyes softened, and tears formed in them, threatening to fall as he took a deep breath.

“Did I take it too far?”

Scott was mortified. Not only had Mitch done everything for him last night, leaving himself uncared for, but now Scott was making him feel like shit for it. Could he do anything right anymore?

He reached for the hands of the smaller man, his demeanor completely changed. “I would never want you to think that. Mitch, last night was amazing.” His voice was soft and calming, but for some reason, Mitch couldn’t believe him.

“Then… why did you leave?”

Scott fought with himself about whether the next words should leave his mouth. He had been thinking of how to say this all night long, but now that it was time to say it, he was clamming up. Like a coward. Like Scott Hoying does.

“We shouldn’t do this anymore.”

The wind was knocked out of Mitch just then. He struggled to compose himself, face to face with the love of his life, telling him he didn’t want him.

“Wh… what?” The tears were falling now. “You… you just said I didn’t take it too far. You said it was… why can’t we…” He shuddered listening to his own quaking voice. He sounded utterly pathetic, like his life was being ripped out of his arms.

Well… it was.

Scott wouldn’t look at him.

“I shouldn’t be with anyone.” He said, quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because I shouldn’t, Mitch. I’m fucked up.”

Mitch groaned, angrily. He couldn’t take this anymore. He stood up, looking down at the slightly shocked face of his boyfriend (Ex-boyfriend? Mitch didn’t want to think about that distinction).

“You ARE fucked up. You are SO FUCKED UP.” Scott flinched, looking away. “And you know what?” Mitch continued. “You have EVERY. FUCKING. RIGHT TO BE.”

Scott sniffed, trying to keep his tears at bay. He shook with the difficulty of this task, and tears began to fall, one by one.

Mitch didn’t touch him. He couldn’t bear to. If Scott moved away, Mitch felt like he would actually die. The next time he spoke, his words were calm.

“I am madly in love with you, Scott Hoying. I have been in love with you since before I could even remember. I’ve loved you at your best. I’ve loved you at your worst, and everywhere in between. I’ve loved you when you were a complete asshole. I deserve to love you always. Let me…. Let me love you, always?” His eyes were pleading.

“I don’t deserve to be loved by you.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’ve loved me at my worst? Here’s the thing, Mitch… you’ve never been less than your best. There’s no worst with you, there’s no in between. You are perfect. You deserve perfection. I… you don’t even want…”

Mitch was confused as Scott began to trail off.

“I don’t even want what?”

“You… you haven’t even let me… touch you.” Scott muttered. “You keep freezing, or telling me to stop. I completely understand that, Mitch. I would never hold that against you, but you deserve someone who can… please you…”

Mitch couldn’t believe his ears. He wanted to tell him how be almost came untouched last night with just the sight and sounds of the gorgeous man below him. It was hard to articulate this, though. It was hard to tell him how much he wanted him without sounding like that was all he was after… to sound like Simon would be absolutely unforgivable.

Mitch lowered himself to Scott’s lap, straddling him. “Is this okay?” He asked, gently. Scott pressed his forehead to Mitch’s, nodding timidly. Mitch placed a kiss on Scott’s temple.

Mitch leaned in to whisper his next words. “You make my heart flutter in my chest. Sometimes I love you so much I feel like it might kill me. You smile and I melt inside. You kiss me and my body is already ready for you. It was so hard to keep my control last night. I needed you so badly.” He pulled back, looking into Scott’s eyes. They looked cautious.

“Then why didn’t you let me?” He asked.

“Because as much as I wanted you to take care of me, the idea of taking care of you turned me on _so fucking much.”_ Mitch whispered, again. The thought of the night before made him hard in an instant, and he grinded down on the hips below him.

Scott growled, his eyes turning dark with lust. Mitch was proud that he elicited such a reaction out of someone so stunning.

“See? I want you so badly.”

Scott hardened beneath him with those words, and Mitch moaned into the blond’s ear, grinding down against him again. He loved that he was responsible for Scott’s body reacting this way. He kissed him then, hungrily.

Scott reached between them and gently placed his hand on Mitch over his pajama pants. He pressed on him there, firmly, making Mitch whimper needily. Mitch bit his tongue. It took all of his energy to stop himself from humping Scott’s hand, needing him to release him.

“Can I take care of this for you?” Scott growled in his ear.

“Please. Need you.”

Scott stood up from the couch in one fluid motion, with Mitch latched onto his waist with his legs. He carried him back into the bedroom and laid him gently on his bed, the smaller man’s legs hanging over the edge.

Scott leaned over him, kissing his lips softly as he removed Mitch’s clothing at a painfully slow pace. Scott hadn’t looked so present in months, as though he was soaking in every second of this. Mitch was hopeful that they could bring him back fully in that moment.

Mitch reached up and removed Scott’s clothing too, needing to see him again. His dick twitched Scott’s cock came into view, hard and _so fucking gorgeous._ He fought the urge to lean forward and take him in his mouth again. He settled for a long groan instead, as Scott spread Mitch’s legs. The sound of the lube cap opening and shutting, followed by the sound of a wrapper tearing, made Mitch close his eyes in lustful anticipation. He was afraid that he wouldn’t last long.

A finger teased his entrance, as Scott leaned over him. “Tell me when,” he growled.

“When. God, when.” Mitch responded. Scott’s finger entered him and he nearly started weeping. He had never been so turned on in his 26 years of life.

More fingers joined the first, moving slowly and gently, opening him. “More… please… faster, Scott. Harder.” He didn’t even know if the words that left his mouth were in English at this point, but they were clearly understood, as Scott picked up the pace.

Mitch whimpered as Scott’s fingers left him. He ached to be filled again. Just as he opened his mouth to complain, two strong hands had his ankles, and pulled him so his ass was hanging over the edge. He knew what Scott was going to do, and he couldn’t wait.

“Please Scott. Please fuck me.” Mitch moaned, lifting his ass up off of the mattress. A soft hand placed itself on Mitch’s stomach, slowly lowering him back to the bed. Scott placed kisses all over the insides of Mitch’s thighs, a low grumble of a laugh escaping his lips as Mitch fought against his hand holding him down.

“Scott, stop teasing me, please, God.” He whined, eyes clenched shut as if he were being tortured.

“Sorry, princess,” Scott replied, between kisses. “I’m just enjoying the view.” Scott stood back up after a moment, leaning over Mitch slightly, hands clutching Mitch’s hips. Mitch was overwhelmed with how confident Scott was. He nearly came undone just watching his handsome, determined face. Scott lined himself up at Mitch’s entrance. He suddenly moved forward, and Mitch saw stars.

Scott stilled. “You okay?” He asked, concern plastered on his face. He remained still, bottomed out within Mitch.

“Fuck.” Mitch replied, eyes closed. Scott leaned down to kiss him between the eyes.

“Tell me what you need.” Scott’s concerned tone nearly brought Mitch to tears in that moment. Or it was the feeling of his long, thick dick buried deep within him. He couldn’t tell.

“Move. Please. Please move.” Mitch replied, opening his eyes into slits. “Need you so bad.” He moaned.

Scott complied, slowly withdrawing, almost painfully so, and roughly slamming back into him. Mitch gasped, adoring every second. Scott repeated this action over and over, changing his pace and angle, until Mitch screamed out.

“Fuck. Fuck, right there, baby… please…”

Scott needed no further directions, ramming into Mitch at that same angle over and over. Mitch was losing his mind a bit more each time he reached his prostate. He was going to reach his climax too soon.

“Scott, fuck, I’m gonna…”

“Let go, babe. Let go for me. Want to feel you finish around me,” Scott replied with a low moan.

Mitch let go, there was no denying that. He rode out his orgasm, screaming Scott’s name, reaching for any bit of skin he could grasp.

Mitch went limp. Scott pumped in and out a few more times, breath haggard, before Mitch felt the condom fill inside of him. Scott groaned beautifully, and his body suddenly appeared to be boneless as he laid over the smaller man. Mitch relished in the feeling of Scott still inside of him. He lazily ran his fingers through Scott’s hair where his head lay on Mitch’s chest.

“Was that proof enough for you?” Mitch asked, smirking.

“You may have to show me again…” Scott replied, eyes shut, content.

**A/N: The story is actually DONE, guys... the question is, how quickly am I going to show it to you? Be warned, we aren't out of the woods of heartache yet...**


	16. Collateral Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This one made me sad to write :(
> 
> Trigger Warning: violence, sexual abuse, nothing that hasn't been seen in this story yet, but still might be too much!

Mitch showed him, alright. He showed him again and again over the next few days. Scott was becoming more like himself as the days wore on. He was eating more, and he flinched less when Mitch would surprise him with gentle touches, wrapping his arms around the larger man from behind. And he laughed, genuinely and frequently, giving Mitch butterflies every single time.

The night terrors continued, and Mitch continued to struggle to compose himself as he would comfort Scott, who would always be shaking, covered in sweat, before falling back into a fitful sleep. Mitch would clutch him close then, failing to fall back to sleep himself.

Mitch was exhausted.

He fell asleep as soon as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and laid his head on his chest. He welcomed sleep, thankful that it was coming quickly.

It felt like it happened instantaneously. Scott left his grasp quickly, and Mitch’s head hit the pillow beneath him fast enough to give him whiplash. His eyes shot open, worried that Scott was sleepwalking.

Scott was still next to him, sprawled out at the edge of the bed. He was gasping for breath. Mitch felt paralyzed. He attempted to reach out to him, but his arms wouldn’t move.

“S…Scott?” Mitch asked, weakly.

Only then did Mitch’s eyes adjust to the darkness. Standing over Scott was a large wall of muscle. It was laughing, low and slow, and its hands were roaming the body below it.

Simon.

Mitch prayed for the ability to move again, or to say anything. His muscles simply wouldn’t move. The only sound he could emit was a small whimper as he watched Simon straddle Scott’s frame. Simon laughed at this.

_I watched him die. How…_

“I’m going to fuck you. And then I’m going to kill you. And I’m going to make your boyfriend watch,” he snarled, scratching up and down Scott’s abdomen, leaving angry red marks in his wake.

As much as Mitch willed himself, as much as he tried, he lay still, as though he had been drugged. His eyes welled with tears as Scott screamed. Simon rammed himself inside of him, bucking into him rapidly and painfully, grinning as Scott squirmed beneath him.

He flipped Scott onto his stomach like Scott was a ragdoll. Pulling his hips up towards him, he filled him again, aggressively, violently. Scott bit down on his pillow, desperate not to make any noise to encourage this man further as he tore him apart.

Simon didn’t last long this way. He suddenly began grunting, “Such a good boy,” over and over, and the words echoed in Mitch’s mind as Simon’s body convulsed and he finished inside of him, before flipping him over again.

Mitch closed his eyes. He wished with all of his might that this man had chosen him to abuse instead of Scott. He would have taken his place in an instant. This was more painful for Mitch to watch than it would be to experience himself, he was convinced of that.

Scott hissed. Mitch’s eyes shot open. A familiar reflective surface caught his eye, running harshly up and down Scott’s chest. A knife.

Simon was cutting him open.

Mitch was able to scream, then. Simon laughed. “Just marking my territory.”

He turned Scott to his side. Mitch gagged as the word “slut” dripped down from the shallow cuts on Scott’s chest onto the sheets below.

“Do you want one more turn?” Simon asked, turning his gaze to Mitch as he lazily rolled Scott’s limp body onto his back. Scott had given up, that much was clear.

Tears stung Mitch’s eyes as he found his voice. “Fuck you.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Simon shrugged, and plunged back into the body below him, eliciting another groan. This time, the sound was dulled. It sounded lifeless, and that terrified Mitch.

This time it was different. Simon clearly didn’t care about keeping Scott alive anymore. His thrusts were deep, and Mitch couldn’t imagine how painful it was. Mitch watched in horror as Simon grabbed the knife again between thrusts. Taking the knife and raising it above his shoulder, Simon’s eyes narrowed. Mitch let out an agonizing sob, knowing what was coming.

The knife came down swiftly, buried easily in Scott’s chest like he was a stick of butter. Scott gasped and sputtered, spraying blood onto the man above him. The knife was raised again, then plunged easily back into him.

Mitch shut his eyes tight, unable to watch the love of his life be slaughtered any longer. “Scottie…” he muttered, desperately.

“I’m here.” Scott’s voice replied, calmly. Mitch had no idea how that was possible.

“Scottie, please,” he tried again, voice breaking as he opened his eyes to see Scott’s limp body be punctured again, blood flowing from the corners of his mouth, and eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

“I’m here, babe. It’s okay. Open your eyes for me.”

Brown eyes met blue the way they had so many times before. Mitch sat up, gagging and trembling. The nausea was unlike anything he had felt. Scott wrapped his arms around Mitch, leaning the smaller boy against his torso, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as Mitch’s breathing slowed.

_You’re lying against him. He isn’t bleeding. He’s speaking, he’s breathing. He’s okay. Simon is dead… Simon is dead…_

Mitch focused on the heartbeat against the back of his head, slightly elevated due to his concern for Mitch, but strong and very much alive.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Mitch allowed the faint sound to put him into a trance. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

It was the most perfect sound Mitch had ever heard. He fell asleep again, quickly, wrapped up in his favorite arms.

The next morning, Mitch felt like he had a hangover. He opened his eyes to find Scott looking down at him where he lay on his chest. Scott’s concern for him broke Mitch’s heart.

“Want to talk about it?” Scott’s voice was gruff, but calm.

“You died.”

Scott frowned, and squeezed the smaller man a bit more tightly.

“I don’t feel like I died,” he replied after a moment, trying to sound upbeat.

“Simon killed you. He killed you right in front of me. It felt so real…” Mitch’s eyes were clenched shut, as though he was afraid that if he opened his eyes, Scott’s dead eyes and perforated body would be there to greet him.

Mitch didn’t miss the flinch from the man holding him at the sound of his torturer’s name. He leaned his head back, nuzzling into his boyfriend’s neck. They sat in silence for a while, Scott gently running his hands up and down the brunette’s arms, and placing occasional kisses on the top of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Mitch,” Scott said, breaking the silence. Mitch was confused.

“What for?” he asked, turning to kneel between Scott’s legs, so he could look into his eyes. He cursed himself as he saw that they were filled with tears.

“I hate that you’re hurting,” Scott replied with a shrug, sounding hopeless. “It’s all my fault. I hate that this is haunting you. I hate when I catch you looking at me with this worried look on your face. I hate that you can hardly even sleep anymore, all because of me- “

Mitch silenced him with a kiss, desperate to stop the slew of self-deprecating statements.

“I’m trying so hard to get better for you,” Scott said shakily after pulling away.

“For me? Scott, you should be getting better for yourself…”

“You’re all I care about.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You’re all I’ve cared about for a long time.”

“Stop it.”

“You kept me alive.”

“You kept yourself alive, because you’re so strong…”

“You don’t get it,” Scott’s voice raised to a higher octave as he sounded more desperate.

“Help me to get it.”

“You’re the only reason I didn’t jump out of my hotel window each night when it was happening… the only reason I don’t down my sleeping pills now.” Scott’s hands were in his own hair now, pulling slightly as he became more frantic.

“What… what are you saying?”

“I’m staying alive for you. I will get better… for you… I promise.” His face was pressed to his knees now, and he rocked, slowly back and forth.

Mitch struggled to comprehend how the morning began with Scott being so calm, to suddenly leading to Scott seemingly having a small anxiety attack in front of him. It was alarming how quickly he went from zero to sixty.

Mitch tried to wrap his head around the fact that Scott just admitted that he could kill himself.

Mitch placed a kiss on the back of Scott’s head, and allowed the tears to fall.

“I’m going to fix you,” Mitch whispered.

**A/N: The next chapter is rough. Letting you all know now :(**


	17. Losing It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I made a mistake in my A/N in the last chapter. This chapter is NOT a tragic one. That's the NEXT chapter. So since I was a jerk and told you this was the one... you get two chapters today!
> 
> Trigger Warning: PTSD elements in this one.

“Can I wake him? We were hoping to spend some time with him today,” Kirstie asked, nervously. The group had come over. Another month had passed, and though Scott continued to show improvement, these night terrors continued to concern them. Scott had had a particularly bad one last night. It had been extremely difficult to wake him, and it was emotionally draining on both of them.

“It was a bad one last night? Maybe we should let him sleep,” Matt replied, concerned.

“The label really wants an answer from us regarding pushing out some new songs… he obviously has to be a part of that conversation,” Kevin said.

In reality, none of them were really ready to get back to work. The only plus side to doing so would be the ability to spend more time with one another. Afraid of being dropped, however, they were pushing themselves before any of them were truly ready.

Mitch rose from the couch. “I’ll go see how he’s feeling.”

He returned with the tall blond in tow a few minutes later. “My dude,” Matt grinned, fondly, standing and wrapping him in a tight hug. Scott smiled softly as he hugged each of his friends in greeting.

“How are you feeling?” Kirstie asked as she pulled out of his hold.

“Better. I’m okay, thanks.” He replied, softly. He was grateful that they were concerned, but this was becoming embarrassing. It had been over two months since the night Simon died. He had to get over this soon. He felt so very _weak._

He had been thinking about how much more successful his band would have been without him. Sure, he had formed the group himself. They would nearly be done with their tour by now, though. He thought about how he should have taken more of a production role within this group from the beginning, like Ben Bram had. He would still be able to arrange and produce incredible music with these people, but he wouldn’t have to worry about dragging them down. If he hadn’t been so selfish, wanting the spotlight for himself…

Each time they looked at him with pity in their eyes, that thought became stronger.

“The label wants arrangements. Five of them. I think we should tell them to kick rocks…” Kevin started.

“We can give them five songs,” Scott replied, determined not to bring them down again.

“They want them tomorrow,” Kevin replied, surprised by Scott’s positive response.

“Let’s get going, then.” The group stared at him.

“You sure, hun?” Mitch asked. Scott rolled his eyes, smirking.

“Five songs won’t kill us.”

They certainly didn’t kill them. In fact, the day was one of the most pleasant the group had experienced in months. The house was filled with random beats from Kevin, laughter, and gorgeous harmonies. They felt in tune with each other. It was a relief to feel so close to one another, especially for them to feel so close to Scott again.

That night, Scott and Mitch fell asleep quickly. There were no night terrors, no sobs in their sleep. They held on to one another and slept soundly.

“These are fantastic, guys. We were afraid you wouldn’t have it in you! And without Ben this time. These demo recordings are great. Let’s get you in to record them ASAP.” The label was across from the band, grinning from ear to ear. The group grinned back, but Scott’s wasn’t as bright.

_I didn’t ruin it, yet._

“Victory drinks?” Kirstie asked as they left the label an hour later. The group agreed in unison, with the exception of Scott, who remained quiet. They each turned towards him, concerned.

“What?” He started. “Drinks sound great, guys. I nodded, but I guess you needed more enthusiasm.” His words were cold, his eyes dark.

“We don’t have to. We can go back to yours instead?” Kevin asked, gently.

“Whatever you guys want. It’s really not a big deal.”

“How about you guys come over and we have some celebratory drinks there?” Mitch asked, trying to diffuse this very confusing tension. Silent nods were their responses, and they made their way home.

In the car, Mitch reached for Scott’s hand. Scott squeezed back, gently, but remained looking out the window of the passenger seat.

“You here with me, Scooter?” Mitch asked, trying to sound light and warm.

Scott snapped his head to look at him. “Fine,” he muttered, before turning back to look out the window.

“It’s great that the label loved the arrangements. It will be great to get back into the studio.” Mitch attempted to make small talk.

Scott was silent.

“Right?” Mitch asked.

“What? Oh… right. Yeah, really great.”

“You okay, love?” Mitch was becoming worried, now.

“For the fiftieth time today, I’m fine. Thank you for your continued concern.”

“You seem… upset.”

“I’m just in a bad mood. Is that allowed?”

“Of course it is.”

“Okay, great.”

They sat in silence until the garage door opened, and Mitch pulled in with a sigh.

The group arrived shortly after them, and they sat sprawled out on the couches with drinks in hand. Scott was laying with his legs tangled with Mitch’s, but that was the extent of their closeness.

“My favorite has to be ‘Cologne’” Kevin said, smiling.

“So good! I don’t know how you don’t cut up your tongue on that one,” Matt replied, laughing.

“What’s your favorite, Scott?” Kristie asked, sensing that he had been too quiet and wanting to involve him more.

“Oh… uh… I don’t know, really.” He replied, scratching the back of his neck and looking absolutely uncomfortable.

To be honest, he had no idea what she was asking him. He knew that if they knew he had zoned out for the entirety of this conversation, they would only become more worried. He was simply sick of it. He was done with the pity.

Kirstie looked at him with the very expression he was hoping to avoid. He wanted the floor to swallow him up.

“I love your part in ‘Break my Heart’” Kirstie offered after a few moments.

“Thanks,” he replied with a shrug.

His numbness was starting to scare himself. How could you be numb to everything, and yet be afraid of how numb you are? Only a messed up mind would do that. Only a broken person would let that happen. He watched as his friends spoke politely after that exchange, shooting him concerned looks every few minutes. It was frustrating.

He couldn’t even act. He couldn’t pretend. It was like he was stuck in black and white while everyone around him was living in color. Like he was at half speed.

Simon’s face invaded his mind every couple of minutes. This had been occurring for the past week or so, but not this often. This certainly wasn’t helping. Could his friends tell that he was pretty damn sure he was losing his mind?

_Shit. Now you’re breathing heavy. Get your shit together, Scott._

“Babe?” Mitch asked.

_Shit, shit, shit. What question did I miss now?_

_Simon’s face won’t leave my fucking brain._

_Yes, I know I’m pathetic, leave me the fuck alone._

_Stop looking at me like that, Matt. I don’t need your pity._

_But I’m so sorry you had to watch what happened to me._

_Did I ruin your life?_

_Of course I did. I ruined all of your lives._

“SCOTT.”

“WHAT?”

They were all staring. Their gazes felt like they were burning holes in his skin. He had no idea how long he had been staring into space, stuck in his own thoughts. Clearly, it had been quite a while. His eyes narrowed.

“We were afraid we lost you again.” Matt said, quietly. His tone of understanding was nauseating. Scott would prefer that someone yell at him _for once._

“I just… need to pee.’

He stood up quickly and walked down the hallway, shutting that bathroom door with a thud. Matt, Kevin, Kirstie, and Mitch stared at one another, dumbfounded.

“He was just… staring straight ahead… like… almost like he was having one of those tiny little seizures people get.” Kevin said.

“I think he must have been having a flashback.” Kirstie chimed in, solemnly.

“The lights were on, but nobody was home. It was eerie.” Matt replied.

Mitch wrapped his arms around himself. Just when he thought they were taking a step forward, it was like Scott was being ripped backwards, out of his reach. Mitch wanted to cry.

Mitch sure was getting sick of crying.

**A/N: Ok... the NEXT one was a tough one to write... but let me know what you thought of this one!**


	18. Losing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok... as promised, heres a gut-wrenching scene for ya. 
> 
> Trigger Warning: Don't wanna give too much away. PTSD at its worst.

Scott had somehow recovered for the remainder of the gathering. Well, not somehow. He knew exactly how he had managed that.

Zoloft.

It had been prescribed to him to manage his PTSD. He had taken an extra when he had had his hissy fit, slamming the bathroom door.

_Like a goddamn toddler._

He was still so angry at himself. He ruined these people’s lives, for crying out loud. They were all traumatized because of him. They would never be the same.

It was all his fault.

He found himself back in the bathroom that night, getting ready for bed, moving slowly, robotically. He gripped the edges of the sink, and found himself zoning out again, staring down the drain.

_You ruined everything. You always ruin everything. You ruined them. All because you let **him** ruin you._

Mitch laid in bed, waiting for Scott to return to his arms. He was willing himself to remain calm. He wanted to yell at his boyfriend, to shake some sense into him. He was becoming desperate. He started to wonder if he would ever see any improvement.

He wondered if he could take it if Scott remained broken. He wasn’t sure if he could. He might just break alongside him.

“Mitchy?” Mitch looked up to see the eyes he loved. They were red-rimmed and swollen, like Scott had just let every emotion inside of him go. Mitch cursed himself, wishing he had been there to support him with his pain.

“Hi baby,” Mitch replied, opening his arms to the taller man. Scott remained still, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. He looked nervous.

“What’s wrong, love?” Mitch asked, becoming worried.

“I… um…” Scott wouldn’t look at him. His hands were fisting his shirt now, and they were shaking.

“I need… I need help.”

“Okay baby. Come here and I’ll help you. Whatever you need love, I’ll help you.” Mitch was sitting now at the edge of the bed, wanting desperately to jump into his boyfriend’s arms, but terrified of startling him further. He kept his distance, as much as it killed him.

“No… I… I’m so fucking stupid. I’m so fucking sorry.” The tears were spilling out of Scott’s eyes now, uncontrollably. Mitch couldn’t help it. He stood up and was in Scott’s arms within the next millisecond. Scott’s trembling scared him. It always did.

“Scott Hoying, you are not stupid. Why would you ever say that?”

Silently, Scott reached a shaky hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. He removed an empty prescription bottle.

An empty bottle that had been half-full just yesterday.

Mitch was frozen in place. “Wh… Scott, what did you do?”

A sob escaped Scott’s lips. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He was trembling from head to toe now. Mitch reached out, desperately.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. I’m going to get you help. You have to lie down, okay?” He clutched onto him tightly as he led him to the bed, lowering him quickly. Scott’s breath was uneven, and Mitch was terrified that the pills were taking him faster than he thought possible.

“9-1-1, What is the address of your emergen-“

“Help. Please help us. Oh God… Please help… my boyfriend. He overdosed on… on… on Zoloft… please help!”

“Okay, sweetheart. I need you to calm down for me, okay? I need you to be calm so you can help your friend. Can you do that for me?”

Mitch could hardly see through his tears. He took a deep breath. “Yes,” was all he could manage to say.

“Alright sweetie, I’ve pinged your location. We have dispatched EMS units to your home. I need you to do something for me while you wait, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Tell me, is he awake?”

“Barely.”

“Keep him awake for me, sweetie.”

“Okay.”

“How many pills did he take?”

“Like… half a bottle, I think… I don’t know. I don’t know…”

“I need you to roll him to his side, and find a trash can or something nearby.”

“Okay… okay, done.”

“I need you to make him vomit, okay, sweetie?” Oh, God. Mitch didn’t do well with his own puke, let alone someone else’s.

Mitch positioned the trash can teetering off of the edge of the bed. He positioned Scott’s head over it, kissing his temple quickly.

“Sorry, baby.” With that, his fingers rammed themselves down Scott’s throat as if they were controlled my someone else. Scott heaved until there was nothing left within him.

Adrenaline is a weird thing.

“Do you see any full pills, sweetie?”

“No… no pills…”

“Okay sweetie. I need you to keep him on his side, and talk to him, okay? Keep him awake for us. The units are nearly there. The longer you can keep him alert, the better our odds are.”

“Scott, love. You’re okay. Stay awake for me, please, love. Please. I love you so much. I know you are in pain and I know that life has been anything but kind to you. I know that you have been through more agony than I can ever comprehend, and that fact _kills_ me. I wish I could take your pain. I wish I could scrub your memories from your brain. I would do anything to have you safe and happy again. I would to anything to hear you laugh again. I want to grow old with you. I want to piss you off every day with my moodiness until we are 100 years old. You’re leaving me too soon, baby. That’s not the plan. You aren’t allowed to leave me. Not yet. We have so much more to do…”

Mitch couldn’t even comprehend what was coming from his own mouth anymore. His eyes widened as he watched those beautiful blue eyes blink slowly, then shut.

“Scott. Scott, baby, please. SCOTT.”

“Is he unconscious, sweetie?” If she called him sweetie again, he was going to scream.

“Yes… yes… what do I do?”

“You’re just going to-“ Her instructions were cut off by Mitch’s own heart-wrenching sob.

“Stop. Stop, he’s having a seizure.”

“Okay sweetie. Listen to me, okay? Is he on his side?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, keep him safe from objects around him. Don’t put anything in his mouth, okay?”

“Where are they?” He was becoming desperate.

“Can you go unlock any doors they may need to get to?”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Sweetie, they are approaching. Is your friend still seizing?”

“B-boyfriend…” Mitch replied. For some reason he needed to make sure he corrected her error. “He just… he just stopped.”

“Okay, sweetie. I need you to go meet the EMT unit at your door.”

Mitch felt like he was being ripped from the only person who mattered as he forced himself to answer the door

A swarm of EMTs burst through the door and past Mitch, asking where Scott was, but not even pausing to hear the answer. They located him quickly, and before Mitch knew it, he found himself in the waiting room of a hospital.

Mitch hated how familiar he was becoming with these places.

**A/N: Please don't hate me!! Was it okay? One chapter to go!**


	19. Mad World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for following along with this story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know you final thoughts. This certainly won't be my last fic, so any comments are always helpful!!
> 
> I'm gonna miss writing this fic so much. The sadness is REAL, y'all.

“Scott, tell me, what made you make the decision to take those pills?”

“I think I lost my mind.”

“Well, you didn’t lose your mind. You were rational enough to realize that you didn’t actually want to die. You got help and you are still here with us. That’s certainly something to be proud of.”

Scott looked at his therapist, annoyance bubbling in his chest. He felt patronized every time he sat here. He didn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t get it.

He was sick of talking about this. It was two weeks ago. All he wanted to do was to move on. He was so stupid to think that the pity would ever go away. Concerned looks in his direction actually started to make his skin crawl, like they were little bugs scurrying across his body. Sometimes it was enough to make him want to scream.

This lady was no different. Dr. Jones knew he was just as pathetic as everyone else did.

“That’s not what happened.”

“What isn’t what happened?”

“I didn’t realize I didn’t want to die.”

“But you asked your boyfriend for help.”

“Yeah.” He stared blankly at her.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I knew that he would have to be the one to find my body.”

Dr. Jones paused. Believe it or not, this was the response that she had been looking for since the incident occurred. They were meeting twice weekly, and the first three sessions since that night had been going too well. Scott had been friendly, warm, and charming. Dr. Jones knew that the other shoe was going to drop. She knew that eventually she would see the PTSD symptoms emerge. The second she saw Scott’s face as he entered her office today, she knew that today would be the day.

“That would have been very traumatizing for him. It was nice of you to think of his well-being.”

Scott rolled his eyes.

“Why did you roll your eyes at that?”

“Can you just talk to me the way you want to? Can you just tell me what you’re thinking, instead of treating me like I’m some… child… with some… terminal illness? If I’m an asshole, tell me I’m an asshole.”

Dr. Jones laughed. “I can’t call you an asshole, Scott.”

“Why not? I won’t tell anybody.”

“I can’t tell you that you are an asshole because that isn’t at all true. I would be lying to you.”

“I’m _conclusively_ an asshole.”

“You’re actually a wonderful person- don’t look at me like that, because it’s the truth- I enjoy talking to you very much. I think you are very interesting, and I like your personality. Today I know you are having a bad day, so like humans do, I’m going to continue to treat you with the same kindness with which you have been treating me.”

Scott was looking out the window, now.

“Have you always thought of yourself as an ‘asshole’, Scott?” She raised her fingers, forming air quotes around the word.

“Maybe a little. Not this much. Now I’m just annoying.”

“Annoying, how?”

“I can’t get my shit together.”

“I think you’re doing a good job of getting your shit together.”

“I just tried to kill myself.”

“Right, and then you stopped.”

“But. Not. Because. I. Don’t. Want. To. Die.” He clapped his hands together with each word, quietly. Tears were welling up in his eyes now. To the average person, the sight would be heartbreaking. Anyone who saw this would pump the brakes on the conversation. Dr. Jones knew better.

“Why do you want to die?”

“I’m tired of hurting people.”

“Whom are you hurting?”

“Mitch. My band. My parents. My sisters. My fans. My friends.”

“That’s a lot of people who care about you.”

“I guess so.”

“Do you feel you deserve that love?”

‘Maybe I did.”

“And not now? Why?”

“Because I’m disgusting.”

“Scott, look at me.”

His blue eyes were watery, but his gaze held hers with determination.

“I had a girl in here earlier. She had gone to a party with a boy she had a crush on. Can you guess what happened at that party?”

“I don’t really want to.”

“She was raped.” Scott flinched at the word. Dr. Jones continued, “She was raped by five men. She had too much to drink, passed out in a spare bedroom, and the boy she had a crush on, he let these people do that to her.”

Scott was silent.

“Is she disgusting?”

“Of course not.”

“Does she deserve to be loved?”

“I get it.” He sounded irritated.

“You deserve all of the love that you receive. Tell me why that is.”

“Because…”. He looked up at her, blankly.

“ _Because I am…”_ she began, prompting him.

“Because I am… a good friend. A good person. I used to be… I used to be nice…”

“Why don’t you feel you’re nice anymore?”

“Because I’m going insane.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I can’t stop seeing his _fucking face,_ every time I shut my eyes.”

“Is that what led to the pills? Were you seeing him?”

“Yes.”

“Scott. You did a fantastic job today.”

Mitch became nervous as soon as Scott stepped into the recording booth. The group had argued for weeks about this song choice. After mulling it over for what seemed like forever (and after Scott had reassured them that this was the right move at least one thousand times), they had given in.

It had been six months since Scott had tried to take his life. That breakthrough in his therapist’s office seemed trivial at the time, but it helped him gain the momentum to finally begin to conquer his PTSD. The night terrors were few and far between. The group watched hopefully as Scott became more and more present as the months wore on. Scott was nearly identical to the man they had known one year ago.

Mitch was incredibly proud of the tall, handsome man in front of him. He couldn’t believe the man’s strength. Scott was able to tell him now the second anything didn’t feel okay. Any time he felt as though his pulse was racing, any time he had a bad feeling, he was able to talk about it now. He was able to ask for comfort, and Mitch was always ready and willing to provide that for him.

Mitch’s nerves immediately calmed as Scott sang his first note. He heard a sigh of relief from each of his friends in a simultaneous chorus around him. They had clearly been just as anxious to hear Scott sing this song.

_All around me are familiar faces,_

_Worn out places, worn out faces._

_Bright and early for their daily races,_

_Going nowhere, going nowhere._

_Their tears are filling up their glasses,_

_No expression, no expression._

_Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow,_

_No tomorrow, no tomorrow._

The group watched as Scott sang the words, goosebumps spreading over their skin with each haunting note. They were thankful that Matt had the lead of the next part, as they didn’t think they could handle hearing those next words come out of Scott’s mouth.

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad,_

_The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I ever had,_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take,_

_When people run in circles it’s a very, very_

_Mad world._

Scott’s bass notes filled the room as Matt struggled to maintain his composure during that chorus. Those lyrics hit so close to home, he had to focus on anything but the words he was singing to prevent himself from falling apart. Kirstie hoped she could do as good of a job composing herself during the next part: her duet with Scott.

_Children waiting for the day they feel good,_

_Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday._

_And to feel the way that every child should,_

_Sit and listen, sit and listen._

_Went to school and I was very nervous,_

_No one knew me, no one knew me,_

_Hello, teacher, tell me, what’s my lesson?_

_Look right through me, look right through me._

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad,_

_The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I ever had,_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take,_

_When people run in circles it’s a very, very_

_Mad world._

They watched in awe as Scott sang the next part with a passion that they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. Looking into his eyes, it was as if they watched the exact moment when he finally returned to his own body after all of his trauma.

_Mad world,_

_Mad world,_

_Mad world,_

_Mad world._

He finished the final, soft backing vocals for Kirstie’s solo.

“Um… well… oh well… fuck. That was amazing. Scott, come on out.” Ben Bram announced after a few moments. Scott replaced his headphones on the mic stand and left the booth, light on his feet, as though that song had been a weight that he had finally let roll off of his shoulders.

“Unreal. Seriously, man.” Scott smiled politely as their new manager, Danny, reached for a handshake. Mitch was by Scott’s side immediately, feeling irrationally overprotective of his boyfriend near any manager, regardless of how kind and genuine Danny seemed to be. Scott shook Danny’s hand and politely thanked him. He was quickly flanked by the rest of his group, patting him on the shoulder and hugging him.

Their hugs were different now. His friends embraced him in a way that didn’t make him feel like he was made of glass anymore. It was as though there was no more fear there, that they just simply enjoyed being with him, that they enjoyed being all together. Their eyes were filled with love for him. There was no more concern, no more pity in their gazes. When there was, it was fleeting, and Scott was able to shrug it off more and more quickly every day.

“Alright, let’s put this masterpiece all together!” Ben yelled.

_**A/N: (Sobs uncontrollably)** _


End file.
